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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383887">Always Affected</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/2LIM3RZ/pseuds/2LIM3RZ'>2LIM3RZ</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Always Affected [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warhammer 40.000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cussing, Demonic Possession, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interrogation, LOTS of violence, OnlyWar tabletop based</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:27:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/2LIM3RZ/pseuds/2LIM3RZ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Always Affected follows the story of my characters in an OnlyWar campaign. It is separated into (so far) three segments: Always Cold, Always Hot, and Always High.</p><p>Always Cold follows the story of 99-Novem, an Enginseer from a freezing Forge World just trying to get through life. <br/>Always Hot follows the story of Nomen "Blaze" Nescio, a weapons specialist from a burning Death World, pretty happy dude.<br/>Always High follows Brailer Tetricus, a drug dealing drug addict begrudgingly following her squad.</p><p>All that the three of them knows is the galaxy is a ruthless, violent place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Always Affected [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Always Cold - 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">All her life, 99-Novem knew her purpose. To put forth all her life’s efforts towards the goals of the Omnissiah and the Adeptus Mechanicus. 99-Novem, who went by merely 99 for simplicity’s sake, had been posted to the Revsheer 32nd nearly as early as the time she was promoted to a Tech Priest. Rising from the ranks of the lowest born place to start on a frozen forge-world called Glacius Conditor, she was proud of herself. Wearing her dark crimson robes, trimmed with near white-blue, with said pride despite not being the strongest.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She made up for her lack of strength in other ways. Being fast, smart, and getting along with others made a lot of pull where strength couldn’t. Of course, like all the other tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, she was strong enough to be trained and wield the great Omnision Axe. A symbol of raw power and fear to their enemy’s eyes.</p><p class="western">Sitting on the bunk in the drab and boring barracks, 99-Novem looked over her blatantly obvious cybernetic legs as her optical mechadendrite spied upon her nearby companions.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She wished she had her Cybernetic Mastiff with her, 99-K98373-B and fondly called Good Boy. He was a plucky dog but as far as she knew, the mission they were to embark on would need more stealth than a mechanical cyber-dog could do. And just as if he were a Psyker reading her thoughts, a man stepped through the door. Their Sargent, Mikial Johnson.</p><p class="western">“Briefing in ten minute.” he barked curtly before stepping away.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Standing up, 99-Novem looked over her squad-mates. A tall muscular man, but otherwise completely average, was on one of the bunks. The heavy weapons expert of the crew, Orion. Another man that was just-as, if not much more, average with a beard was Anders. Then there was the pompous looking Psyker. Bald with blue eyes and a cape, and just as pompous with his name as was befitting his appearance, Maximillius.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The Revsheer 32nd was an odd bunch. As far as she knew, everyone in this regiment was from a Hive World, and their years of life there had made them a paranoid bunch to the point of adapting and forming a code hidden from the Commissars. It was clever, but 99-Novem wouldn’t lie to herself and say the paranoia hadn’t rubbed off of her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Not much discussion was made, aside from everyone agreeing to head to the mission briefing. They were among the last to enter and sit, watching Commissar Officer Dorian brief them.</p><p class="western">“Alright, you’re all being dropped in the halo formation here,” he pointed to a section on the map “from there, your platoon is going to take the outpost, head deeper into enemy fortifications, and take the orbital battery. The goal of this mission is maximum stealth, no degrees of failure will be tolerated.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Commissar Dorian’s voice was an odd mixture, it was partly a booming dominant voice that screamed to obey, but it was also seething and grated 99-Novem’s ears. Overall, Commissar Dorian was just.. unlikable. Then again, her years of service had helped her surmise that all Commissars were just like <em>that</em>. It felt as if they specifically chose those with genes for that. Just as it was started, the mission briefing was over, with the mission being quick and simple on paper.</p><p class="western">Ha, as if anything on paper was just as simple as it was.</p><p class="western">Stepping out, 99-Novem watched as her squad-mates parted ways, with her joining them in going away as she went towards the Mechanicus sector of the ship. It made her feel at peace, just the idea of worshiping the Omnissiah was nice. It was a sort of guaranteed thing she could do in a universe of uncertainties.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">While she was there, 99-Novem boded her time going over her bolt pistol. Praying and ensuring it would work well for the battle. She was.. a decent shot with it, but a little more help could go a long way. It was a familiar sort of itch in her mind. A game of what-if’s. Looking up from the bolt pistol, she took a deep breath. Paranoia wasn’t such a fun trait, but it saved her ass before.</p><p class="western">A month would pass before they were called.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">In the bay, they were just about to enter the planet’s atmosphere when her squad spotted a large box. Without a question towards her teammates, 99-Novem was the one to open it. A large.. barrel? Looking to her squad-mates, not like they could see her face through her mask. Maximullius was looking excitedly at the barrel, a sort of look that said ‘a-ha!’. Just as she was about to ask Maxillius what the barrel was for, she saw Orion speaking to the Commissar and heard the alarm go off to get into positions.</p><p class="western">99-Novem’s squad was first. Anders and Orion the firsts of one both lines with Maxillius and herself second.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Then, they dropped. It certainly wasn’t a relieving one, with the noises of flak going off every which way. Airsupport could only get so stealthy, but luckily it was in the distance. Yet just as she landed, she heard a harsh crunch and grunting. With her optical mechadendrite whipping around, she turned in suit to behold Maximillius on the ground along with Orion and Anders.</p><p class="western">Sighing, 99-Novem adjusted her hold on her Omnision axe and watched as the three men got the Medicaid who was… maybe a bit too begrudging to help Maximillius. Clearly he had done something to upset the Medicaid of all people, the fool.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As it turned out, the barrel was something Maximillius had ordered, and while they were on the ship, he had taken one of the trollies and used it to help tote the barrel, and because he had broken his ankle on the drop, himself. As though it were a boat. 99-Novem couldn’t decide if she wanted to commend the Psyker for his quick thinking, or stay quiet considering how cold he was towards her.</p><p class="western">Continuing through the forest with utmost stealth, the platoon stood at a standstill as 99-Novem flexed the grip on the Omnision Axe.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They were at a field. Crouching quickly, 99-Novem looked as close as she dared. In the middle of that field was a small outpost, with only two or so men patrolling about it.</p><p class="western">99-Novem glanced back before Mikial’s hushed voice crackled over her ear piece.</p><p class="western">“Anders, your squad will go in and take out the guards. Remember, utmost stealth.”</p><p class="western">99-Novem glanced to their squad leader before taking a deep breath.</p><p class="western">Then she went. Her and the three men that made up their ‘squad’. Crawling forward, <span><span><span>she</span></span></span> was a considerable distance before she stopped when something clicked.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Tensing, a burst of static escaped her as she cursed in Binaric. A snare mine. As if on cue, a flare rose into the air, along with a short yell and a sudden burst of gunfire.</p><p class="western">With quick, fluid movement, 99-Novem switched from holding her axe to holding her bolt pistol, using her optical mechadendrite to look at the outpost to see who fired.</p><p class="western">Turns out, it was no one, at least none of the rebels.</p><p class="western">Sighing in relief, 99-Novem started to stand as Mikial and the rest of the platoon began to emerge carefully out of the forest, wary of setting off any more of the snare mines.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Looking to her right, she saw Orion, with the aid of the medicaid, getting out of the barbed snarl of wire. He was lucky he didn’t get too harmed from it.</p><p class="western">Of course, considering Orion’s mistake, Mikial stomped up towards them and hissed in his low commanding voice. A warning to not let that happen.</p><p class="western">Leaving some men behind to man the outpost, the platoon of men continued forth.</p><p class="western">Funnily enough, that’s what made this ironic for 99-Novem. The periods of nothing. Walking, walking, and more walking with interludes of violence and sudden adrenaline.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And then more nothing. 99-Novem paused almost midstep as she realized she was still holding her bolt pistol instead of her axe. Looking ahead, she debated on switching to her axe when she heard a distant rumbling, and soon lights. As if a silent order was called, everyone dove down and a car trundled forth. It stopped on the beaten dirt path and two men got out, armed with simple rifles. Tensing, 99-Novem kept her trigger finger ready.</p><p class="western">Just as soon as the two men neared the platoon’s hiding place, two men, Mikial included, leaped up and dispatched them.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Standing, 99-Novem looked over the car before realizing her name was being said. She looked over to Maximillius, who had a sort of happy expression as he held up a pair of handcuffs.</p><p class="western">“As I was saying, Sargent Mikial, we can get into the base with the tech priest pretending to be a captive while we just drive in. We’ll put on their shirts over our uniforms and we’ll get in, easy.” all 99-Novem heard during this plan were alarm bells, though looking towards Orion who was already complying, and Anders who was loading the oil drum into the car with the help of two others, she couldn’t deny the sheer absurdity might work in their favor. After all, for just a pompous looking man, 99-Novem found remembering her team’s names the hardest thing when they first met due to how unremarkably average they were.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It would’ve been remarkable if it weren’t being used in their favor with 99-Novem sitting in the back seat of a car with botched cuffs, oh she certainly made sure they could be easily snapped off, with her nerves screaming as they just.. drove right to the gate.</p><p class="western">‘<em>It can’t be this easy. It just can’t. Impossible.’</em> and she swore she felt her heart skip when she stopped at the gate when it dawned on her.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Wait.. how is he walking? I heard his foot snap like a twig earlier.’</em> 99-Novem’s curiosity piqued for a moment ‘<em>Certainly cybernetics. Has to be. Phsyker tricks? Doubt it, Pyskers can’t do that.</em>” she left it with a mental note to discuss that later as she looked to Maximillius at the wheel.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Hey, you sure that’s Robinson? I could’ve sworn his eyes were different.” one of the rebel guards was asking as they looked at an I.D. One of them must have picked it up while they were disguising themselves.</p><p class="western">“Yeah, I’m sure! Besides, not like they got the best of cameras here.” he snorted before handing back the I.D to Maximillius.</p><p class="western">“Go on in.” were the final words as Maximillius drove them through the gate.</p><p class="western">“That barrel’s explosive, right?” Orion asked as 99-Novem broked the cuffs off and held the bolt pistol in her lap.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Yes it is. I wouldn’t have asked for a <em>non</em>-explosive barrel.” he rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow.</p><p class="western">“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. <em>You</em>,” Orion pointed to Maximillius “are going to use this car like a bomb. Drive it right at the building and Anders can shoot it.” looking around he looked at a particular building “That’s probably an armory so me and 99 can raid that.” Maximillius hummed as he pondered Orion’s words before nodding.</p><p class="western">“Alright. In three.. two..” he left without a one as he stopped just enough for her and Orion to jump out.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just like that, Maximillius sped off towards the main building, leaving herself and the other man to storm the armory. It was easy enough with the surprise on everyone’s faces in the sparse camp, and it was just as easy work to enter the armor.</p><p class="western">Raising her bolt pistol, 99-Novem fired, her aim true, into the closest man. Stumbling back, his hand went to his chest before he sank to the ground. To her right was the signature burst fire from Orion’s Heavy Stauber. A flurry of steps and a slammed door with a click and 99-Novem watched as the third man hid himself in the armory’s hold.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Orion was slowly advancing towards the wire meshed window as 99-Novem holstered her pistol and took up her axe. Approaching the wire mesh on top of the counter, she raised it and sliced it cleanly. Looking at her Orion nodded and approached the hole, before entering and taking care of the man inside.</p><p class="western">99-Novem remained on the other side, axe holstered and with her pistol out. Hearing the door open, she averted her attention to it only to see Orion grinning with a rocket launcher in his hands along with an extra few belts of ammunition.</p><p class="western">Outside, the sounds of combat grew louder through the shabby building. She and Orion stepped outside, 99-Novem stepping back as Orion swiftly aimed and fired, causing a building to explode brilliantly just as something else exploded.</p><p class="western">“Orbital building!” 99-Novem called as she began the rush to enter there just after she saw the wisp of a cape enter a door. Giving a short whistle, she and the other man rushed for the building. Getting to the doors just as an explosion echoed within.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Entering, gunshots echoed down the hall along with a heavy thud. 99-Novem uneasily glanced towards Orion as they approached two heavy looking doors. Stepping in, the two immediately ducked down as a shot flew overhead. 99-Novem, unfortunately, had to crouch beside Ander’s body. Her unease that he was dead disappeared when she realized he was still breathing.</p><p class="western">“-guards over there guarding the servitor in there. I’m guessing that’s the thing that controls the orbital battery, but there’s no way to get into it. Not that I can see, 99, you got this?”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem looked to Maximillius’s serious eyes and nodded as she reached for the grenade on Anders’s belt. Orion was on the other side of Maximillius shooting. Good thing he grabbed that extra ammunition. Leaning up, 99-Novem chucked the grenade before it dawned on her on how she could damage the servitor in the tank. Seizing up, she dropped back down with a sigh of relief as the explosion only knocked back the desk, and therefore, the man behind it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Moving from his place, Maximillius picked up the small med-pack Anders carried and fumbled with the equipment. Raising her gaze from Maximillius, she watched as Orion raised a grenade and threw it. 99-Novem’s eyes went wide as she followed it before sighing as it gave off smoke. Good, they couldn’t afford that servitor getting harmed at all.</p><p class="western">Adjusting how she was crouched behind another desk, 99-Novem fired her gun.</p><p class="western">And missed, considerable badly.</p><p class="western">“<em>Fire suppression system activated. Protocols initiating in 3..2..1..</em>”</p><p class="western">“Shit!” Orion hissed as 99-Novem’s mind reeled in panic as the doors began closing.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Move the desks! The desks! Use it to block the door!” she yelped as she vaulted over the desk she hid behind and shoved it towards the door. Orion helped as she heard something choking in the background. When the desk was in place, the door creaked, the desk groaned, shaking beneath the weight.</p><p class="western"><em>CRACK!</em> Just like that, the desk was mere splinters. 99-Novem glanced to her teammates as she rushed to the command module, seeing how the final rebel had suffocated. Instead of water or foam, the suppression system was sucking out all the oxygen.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Which was good, the electronics could have gotten harmed from both of the former. However, it wasn’t good all the same considering she and her teammates <em>needed</em> that oxygen. Shoving a chair aside, she typed furiously into the terminal, determined to hack into the systems. Pop ups of her failure heralded her welcome as the system locked her out. Glancing back at the team, she crouched down and tore off a panel. 99-Novem’s gloved fingers fumbled for a moment as she fused her mind to the system, determined to seize control and obey the mission’s orders. She could hear the servitor’s protests. Not that it could do much protesting, but it still didn’t like her intrusion into <em>its</em> systems.</p><p class="western">99-Novem mumbled a prayer to the Omnissiah to herself before she disabled the fire suppression and took aim upon the enemy’s fortress.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The orbital battery was already prepared to fire, so they had no need to wait. Double checking her aim, she fired, watching the explosions from the system. 99-Novem suddenly felt herself tense as the servitor made a grab for control. Raising her hands, she grabbed onto her head, shaking with the effort. With a grunt, she took a hold of the system once more she was shaken, taking the camera and firing once more. That was when she spotted it.</p><p class="western">A column of tanks. With masses of men alongside them.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">At once, 99-Novem ejected herself from the mainframe, taking the sparcest of moments to slow her hammering heart and pull her goggles off enough to wipe her sweating forehead.</p><p class="western">“Tanks. And rebels. <em>Lots</em> of tanks and rebels.” she could see the pause in Maximillius and Orion’s faces as they took in the news.</p><p class="western">“Alright, let’s grab Anders and go.” Maximillius bellowed as he and Orion approached the comatose body and lifted him. 99-Novem followed closely, surprise and a hint of relief at seeing a car in the slight distances that they must have missed.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The three, and unconscious forth, rushed towards the car. 99-Novem taking the lead to examine and hotwire the vehicle.</p><p class="western">“We have to find Sargent Mikial, tell him and the rest of the platoon of the tanks.” she spoke mostly to herself, but also to Maximillius and Orion, who could provide themselves as extra eyes along with her optical mechadendrite keeping watch. She stepped on the gas, speeding forward. Soon, they were past the treeline and once more into the forest’s dismal grip. Glancing upward, she saw that the stars had moved, they needed every inch of night they could get, even if their cover was blown.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She saw something move in the distance, a sort of man shape, quite a few of them in fact. Slowing the car, she stopped it and looked to Maximillius before looking to where she saw the men.</p><p class="western">“Aquilla.” it was clearly a password. One that, upon looking at the clueless expressions on her team’s faces, one that they didn’t know.</p><p class="western">“Caw!” 99-Novem gave Maximillius a look of surprise. Did he know the password? She was about to ask when she saw Mikial step up and walk forward, along with some other men of the platoon.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem supposed it was only because ‘caw’ was something only Maximillius would respond with. At once, the three got out of the car, with 99-Novem and Maximillius beginning to explain what had happened before Mikial had interrupted, stating that they could go over the mission when it was over. So 99-Novem settled on telling Mikial of the tanks and men approaching. All the while, the Medicaid, whose name turned out to be Robert, helped Anders with his wounds. Including waking him with a dose of adrenaline.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Mikial had gone silent for a minute before he raised his hand to the ear piece, nodded, and raised his hand in a signal.</p><p class="western">“Let’s go, men!” he clearly spoke as loud as he dared before marching forward. 99-Novem fell in suit near Orion and Anders. As they marched, 99-Novem let her thoughts drift as much as she dared to the orbital battery and the servitor.</p><p class="western">Her mind nearly got forcefully expelled, a certainly painful process. And if not expelled, then the servitor could have certainly done something nasty to it. One hand rubbed the back of her neck beneath her hood as the other clung to her pistol.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She’d been out of practice with technology, somehow. That was the only reason. She must have somehow gotten rusty. That was the only excuse, that she was somehow failing the Omnissiah.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Right? That’s it. I’m not doing something right and that was the only reason the servitor nearly got the jump on me like that?</em>’ Yet no matter what 99-Novem told herself, her skin still had goosebumps from the encounter. She stopped herself when she nearly stepped on a man’s heels, something that would have surely hurt due to her metal legs.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping to the side, she saw they had come to another tree line, yet there were odd patches in the grass that she noticed when she squinted and used her optical mechadendrite to see. One of the ‘patches’ flew up and the silhouette of a man was seen. The startled sound of a weapon being raised roused her attention towards Orion. Luckily, he didn’t shoot as it turned out the men were Imperial Guardsmen.</p><p class="western">Sure enough, there were spider holes open for the rest of the remaining platoon to take them. 99-Novem ended up in a spider hole near Orion, with Mikial taking another one to her right, Anders just past him, and then Maximillius.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem crouched to keep in the hole, already she was tense. Patience was a virtue, but sometimes it certainly felt like they were waiting for their doom. Shaking herself as much as she dared, the tech priest scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have let her thoughts deviat to that so quickly. Shouldn’t have let that damn servitor fluster her so.</p><p class="western">As soon as the thought had crossed her mind, she took a deep breath. No, the servitor had no choice in that matter. It was doing what it was meant to do, obey. There was no place she was in that she could blame it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Once more, her musings were stopped at a low sort of sound. And crunching, <em>lots</em> of crunching.</p><p class="western">“Hold your fire.” Mikial’s voice quietly crackled in her ear as she slowly used her optical mechadendrite to peer ahead. Men. Lots of men, but luckily, as far as she could see, it wasn’t the mass of men she saw in the orbital battery’s camera. The men hardly stepped into the field, however, and a few of them parted for something. Something loud and clearly dangerous.</p><p class="western">“<em>Shit.</em>” was all Mikial had to say. Upon seeing the tank, 99-Novem raised a gloved hand to her ear and spoke quietly, but urgently of what type of tank it was. A turretless one, which was good, but it was still dangerous on its own.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Even with that relief, the air was still tense. The sky, ever so slowly, a brightening dawn approaching with its bright claws. Luck was still on their side, the brightness, despite the complete darkness around them, was facing towards their enemy’s faces.</p><p class="western">“Sarge, hear me out, we take our knives out and if one of those bastards gets too close, we take them down.” 99-Noven winced at the sudden voice of Orion in her ear-piece. She wasn’t expecting him to speak. Yet.. that wasn’t such a bad idea. It could work given the area was still dark and hard to see, she only had good sight with the infrared of her mechadendrite.</p><p class="western">“Good idea. Men, take your knives out and be ready.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem didn’t have a knife per-say. Only a combitool and the Omnission Axe were viable options.</p><p class="western">She opted for the axe in the end.</p><p class="western">The men advanced as slowly as the tank did, taking their time. Beneath her gloves, 99-Novem’s hands were sweaty as she clung to the axe and waited. Yet as soon as the tank with men surrounding it got close, she heard a nearby thud, a half yelped out yell towards her left. Orion had taken a man and it clearly didn’t go well. Just as 99-Novem flung over the top to get a good shot at a nearby man, only to freeze when there was suddenly a distant sound of crying.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Crying. Crying that slowly grew louder and louder. Something dripped onto her glove, looking down 99-Novem seized up for a moment when she saw it was something dark and shiny, blood. But how did blood somehow..? She looked up and saw a few scattered pebbles in the grass ahead of her. Pebbles with thick stains of bloody tears, by the Machine God.. she could hear tiny minute sobs.</p><p class="western">Steeling herself, she tightened her grip on her axe. She couldn’t make a mistake, not when there were so many enemies approaching, and from the chaotic yelling, even more were yet to come.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Yet 99-Novem looked up just in time to see the tank suddenly flip as if some invisible giant had tossed it. The crunching and screams that crashed together with the groaning of the tank as it flipped over.</p><p class="western">“Fucking Psykers!” Mikial’s voice shrieked over the ear piece, whatever other words were drowned out as something flew over, followed by dozens and dozens of other things. Ghosts. Shrieking, wailing ghosts.</p><p class="western">It was as if she was suddenly thrown underwater. The air was gone from her lungs. 99-Novem tried to take a step back, but she only fell against the wall of the spider hole and slid down. Her sweaty hands were even sweatier as she fumbled with her axe.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breath. Her respirator must have.. have something. Why couldn’t she breathe? A hiccupping whine clawed its way forward before she erupted into a howling sob as she let go of her axe and clutched at her head, curling in on herself. It was too hot, too damnably hot in her robes and yet she was still shaking as if she was back on Glacies Conditor without any sort of protection from the freezing elements.</p><p class="western">Gritting her teeth, she tried to breathe, yet it only ended up with her quicking inhale and exhaling.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem was <em>stupid</em> so, so stupid to even think she had any sort of cababilities. How she nearly got caught in the snare mine was the first sign, the near devastating mishap with the servitor was another. She smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead, trying and failing to choke back her tears. She needed to be quiet. Needed to get up and get into the fight. Even when the ground shook from only what the Omnissiah knew it was from. As her gloved hands borderlined painful clawing to her bald head, she felt what had overcome her slowly fade away as the last sobs and tears devolved into hiccupping.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Leaning back and grabbing her axe, 99-Novem stared at the fading stars and suddenly orange lit sky for a moment before clamoring out of the spider-hole. Her legs, despite being metal, felt as if they were flesh and blood and <em>weak</em>. In fact, she felt as if she was a banner in the wind, one cut loose and she’d fly away. She settled on thanking the Omnissiah that she was wearing her respirator and goggles. There was no way anyone could see her tears that way. She silently joined in the march behind her teammates, Orion beaming an excited grin as Maximillius spoke proudly on his idea of flipping the tank.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She was grateful no one decided to speak to her on what had happened. Thankful that all they were doing was marching elsewhere, something about being picked up upon a Valkyrie. She’d just be relieved they were going anywhere else. Being somewhere else but that field and fortress.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Always Cold - 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">It wasn’t too long, comparatively, that they were on another ship. A Valkyrie gunship to be specific. Nearby was a man, on his knees in prayer. 99-Novem was restless, no matter how still she sat she couldn’t get the worming feeling in her head that all wasn’t alright. Beside her was Good Boy, who’s red optics flickered this way and that, 99-Novem leaned out just enough to hook her gloved hand on the handle of his bulky collar. The familiar grooves were welcoming as she looked about.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maximillius was dozing, his head perched against his chest while Anders and Orion idly sat in their chairs. Beside the two men who were awake, they were their companions Daniel and Erik. Of course, Maximillius’s companion was the one person who seemed he’d rather be anywhere else with the way his serious face dutifully glowered. A Junior Commissar named Hector. When Maxmillius woke with a start, his eyes blinked owlishly for a moment, focussing on the praying man before gazing around the ship and resettling into the haughty face he usually wore.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just as soon as Maximillius woke, the praying man stood, frowning at the troops in the ship.</p><p class="western">“Get up.” he barked, stomping past and speaking still. As the soldiers got up, so did she, letting go of Good Boy’s handle just enough to do it, while leaving her fingertips to touch it. They were taking Fortress 258-D since it was open. And of course as their status as drop troops, they were living to their name.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem was reasonably relieved. As relieved as one could get about dropping, literally, into battle. As long as nothing made Maximillius summon more terrors, she could deal with that. The fear of battle was enough thank-you-very-much. At least, until Commissar Dorian spoke.</p><p class="western">The Death Korps of Krieg were joining them to take the wall breach. Wonderful. She couldn’t help but give a side glance to Orion and her other teammates before looking ahead.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">That was fine. She could handle that. Of course, retreating in the first place wasn’t ever an option, at least for her teammates, she had more leeway than them. Now the Death Korps felt what surely a Commissar must have felt to the troops, a wall blocking a way. A loaded gun to your back. Now 99-Novem felt a wave of foolishness overcome her. <em>Of course</em> she felt stupid thinking that. Battles need to be fought for a war to be won. It was a stupid idea to even doubt and double think. Rolling her shoulders, she prepared herself to jump, leaning down to hold tightly onto Good Boy’s handle.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She berated herself as much as she allowed for letting herself get shaken up over such small things. How could she be so stupid? Focussing, she went with the flow of jumping out of the ship. Once more, it was dark and yet below was speckled with lights as if the faraway stars littered the ground. She landed, but not in an ideal place as she let go of Good Boy’s handle, ordering him to stay close.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Crouching quickly behind a boulder, with her metallic canine companion beside her, she held tightly onto her bolt pistol as bullets flew by like furious bugs. Leaning out, 99-Novem raised herself to fire at a group of soldiers charging towards them.</p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <b>BLAM!</b>
  </em>
</p><p class="western">99-Novem shrieked as her gun exploded in her hands. Dropping what little remained, she reached out and took a tight hold of Good Boy as the Cyber Mastiff lunged, snarling viciously. She was lucky she had such sturdy gloves and armor on, but nonetheless her hands stung.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A buzz of gunfight came from her right. Orion was shooting. And efficiently too. Soon something flew over and exploded, someone throwing a grenade. Then just as soon as that happened, a bright flash from Maximillius’s eye. 99-Novem couldn’t help but be impressed when the laser reflected off of one man’s armor to light another on fire. 99-Novem was distracted as Hector shot down another with Erik and Anders both missing.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Distracted enough for a man to shoot at her, but ironically enough his own weapon exploded. 99-Novem startled for a moment and turned to see forty men approach. Luckily she saw Sargeant Mikial and sighed in relief.</p><p class="western">“How did you get up there?!” the man demanded from Anders as he leaned up to look at him. Behind her respirator, 99-Novem cracked a grin as Anders shrugged in turn, a smug look on his face.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just as soon as Anders finished shrugging, their moment of reprieve was over as fighting resumed once again, more intense than before. Clutching her axe, 99-Novem watched the scene, the same feeling of dread arising as she heard the faint noise of tanks. Her mechadendrite attempting to search for the sound. There just seemed to be no end to the mass of men they were fighting. A thundering sound entered in the distance, giving way to a loud roar as Valkyries flew over, dropping napalm in all of their explosive fire.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Looking up, she watched as one of the Valkyries was hit. How it fell in a fury of flames and smoke. She looked back to Mikial as he raised a hand to his ear-piece, frowning sternly.</p><p class="western">“Go retrieve that pilot. Alive, though I shouldn’t have to say that.” 99-Novem glanced at Anders, realizing he was speaking to their squad. Of course it was them. Send the squad with the Tech Priest that has a case of chronic bad luck.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just like that, 99-Novem and the rest of their squad found themselves marching quietly through the battlefield. Startlingly, they encountered no one and found the building easily, an ominous pillar of smoke spilling out of it. The front was barren, except for a closed garage door. They approached from the side, looking towards a small window before ending up on the side where a door was, two windows on either side.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Looking through it, 99-Novem saw nothing but boxes. She stepped past her teammates without a world and bent to lockpick the door, scowling as her attempt failed. Stepping to the side, she watched as Orion broke the door open and immediately raised his gun.</p><p class="western">“Who’s there!” a voice called from within. 99-Novem watched in the background, holding her axe tightly. As it turned out, he was part of the Imperial Navy. Which was relieving to know that allies were only in the building as far as she knew.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem assessed their surroundings, mainly how the left turbine was smoking. With that, she glanced to Good Boy pawing at the ground and then to a short woman in a pilot’s uniform, wearing her curly hair in a bun. She introduced herself as Jezabel.</p><p class="western">“Are you here to rescue me, or are you on another mission and happened to help out?” She seemed amiable enough.</p><p class="western">“Yes.”</p><p class="western">“We are.” Maximillius and Orion spoke, only to frown and look to her downed Valkyrie.</p><p class="western">“That’s not going to do. I’m staying with my ship.” 99-Novem took the moment to look at the ship as Jezabel spoke. It <em>seemed</em> alright, except for being crashed into a building with a smoking turbine.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Why do you want to stay with a pile of junk? That’s not going to do either.” Orion huffed, gesturing to the ship. Even 99-Novem could see how he struck a nerve in the pilot.</p><p class="western">“I think we should stay.” she raised her voice, glad to see the relief in Jezabel’s eyes that she was on her side. Sputtering, Orion at once tried to convince her.</p><p class="western">“Well it’s our <em>mission</em> to get you out of here. You’re going to need to leave the ship.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As Orion tried to convince Jezabel, 99-Novem went to the smoking turbine, crouching by it and reaching in. Staying or not, if they were discussing this the smoke was only a sign to anyone nearby, screaming alluringly that there were people. And while 99-Novem could handle herself with just the axe, she’d like having a gun too just in case. Of course she didn’t have that option anymore.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It was easy enough work to stop the smoking, luckily enough. At least something went right for her so far. She heard a huff and looked to Maximillius, who certainly wasn’t pleased at all.</p><p class="western">“Alright. We’re staying here until the Death Korps gets here, so let’s hole up.” Maximillius frowned and just like that, they went to work. Shoving the heavy crates against the windows, both clearing the floor and offering some sort of barricade.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Within the garage was a loading sentry, and she got an idea.</p><p class="western">“I can speak to the loading sentry’s spirit.” 99-Novem offered to the men, Maximillius and the man who turned out to be the co-pilot named Arnold. <span><span><span>The psyker</span></span></span> only looked dubious while Arnold shrugged.</p><p class="western">With a sigh, 99-Novem quickly realized she once more was on a streak of bad luck.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She left Arnold to pilot the loading sentry after giving a quick run-down. Using the loading sentry, he took the garage door and held it securely down, effectively locking it in place. With that, she positioned herself on the wall by the Valkyrie, her on one side with Good Boy opposite of her. Orion had taken up the office with Erik and Anders at the door. Everyone with their weapons out. Not that 99-Novem could do much unless she got close enough to hit someone.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Hey, 99!” Orion called out, frowning, she left her position to see what the man needed as he certainly didn’t sound urgent.</p><p class="western">“Yes?”</p><p class="western">“There’s a heavy bolter on the Valkyrie, you think we could take it and put it on the sentry?” Orion grinned and 99-Novem could only look from the ship to the sentry. It <em>could</em> work. Plus, it would add a <em>very</em> big gun to their arsenal. So, sure enough she helped hook the large heavy bolter to the sentry’s arm.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Then she was back in her corner, watching out for enemies. Time to time she would stretch her mechadendrite to search for them. She saw nothing but noticed Good Boy cocking his head this way and that. His back partially arched as his canine instincts told him to hackle up despite not having fur. 99-Novem was tense as she waited. She couldn’t see anything and yet Good Boy was giving off signals that he knew something was out there.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“This is <em>boring.</em>” she heard Orion’s voice slightly echo from the office, soon followed by a thud. She flinched as an explosion followed mere seconds afterwards. 99-Novem gritted her teeth and issued a silent order to Good Boy. If the grenade went through the office, then surely he could flank them. Outside on her side of the building, she heard a surprised yell. 99-Novem stayed in place, clutching her axe even when another explosion echoed outside.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The gunshots began. She heard Good Boy faintly snarling, oh so faintly with the noise of the fight around her and the building blocking her.</p><p class="western">“Fuck! Go! I’ll take the damn dog!” followed by a clang.</p><p class="western">“Shit!” 99-Novem cursed as she ducked out the large hole made by the Valkyrie. Good Boy could handle himself. One glance in his direction and 99-Novem was sure of it. She needed to help her teammates. Circling around the back of the building, raising her axe in readiness, she turned around the corner just in time to see the struggle between Erik, Anders, and Daniel. Rushing forward, 99-Novem raised her axe.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Only for her foot to hit a rock just before she swung. Yelping, 99-Novem felt the thud of impact in her <span><span><span>axe</span></span></span> just as she fell on her face. Looking up, somehow her axe had embedded itself in a man’s gut. Just as she got up, she heard yelling in the distance and the familiar growl of a tank’s approach.</p><p class="western">Holding onto her axe, she dusted off her robes and watched as Good Boy trotted over, turned, and barked at the tank before 99-Novem commanded him to silence.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Her Cyber Mastiff’s jaws were shining with blood and bits of visera clung to his metal teeth. She’d certainly have to clean him off as soon as she got the chance. It’d do him no good for him to be filthy like that, not to mention if any blood got in his joints.. frowning she stopped her folly of thoughts as she focussed on the tank. It was a Leman Russ rolling steadily towards them. She could see how her squad was tense, weapons and bodies ready to fight and get out of the way of the tank.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">At least until a man popped out of the top, wearing the ever so distinct helmet and gas mask of all men in the Death Korps. 99-Novem released the breath she held and raised an arm to wave towards them. Their mission was over, finally. Which was a relief. Now they just needed to get to wherever they needed to go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Always Cold - 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">99-Novem woke up to a heavy weight on her chest. A choking, suffocating burden. Just as soon as fear began to set in she sat up with a quiet gasp to a sharp knock on the door. Blinking sluggishly, she opened the door to see another Tech Priest, a man she had met and known to be 64-D.</p><p class="western">“You have a few packages. Explosives.” was all he said before he turned and walked away after 99-Novem said thank you.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Leaning back, 99-Novem sorted herself out and ran a hand over her face. That certainly was.. a dream. Looking at Good Boy, who laid contently at the end of her bed, she snapped her fingers and walked out. The halls were short enough, but nonetheless she walked quickly to see the packages he spoke of. With luck, they were frag and stun grenades like she asked for.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Only.. she saw one large package slightly precariously leaning on a smaller one. Both labelled explosives. Which was suspicious considering both should have been <em>small</em> with small <em>hand-held</em> grenades. Narrowing her eyes, 99-Novem took both boxes back to her quarters and opened them. The smaller box, luckily, was a set of six stun grenades. Which could be easily useful if she got creative enough she supposed, of course it was the second that stunned her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A hundred mortar shells. Looking behind herself to the closed door with her mechadendrite, she felt chills grow on her arms. How would she have even gotten that? Replacing the lid, she hid the box under her bunk and left the room, leaving Good Boy there to guard. As she approached the mess hall, she saw Maximillius heading towards the mess hall as well. She approached him with a simple good morning, only to get a raised eyebrow and the barest greeting in return.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She only paused the slightest when she realized she had an option. To join her Adeptus Mechanicus brethren or join her brothers in battle. She felt it shouldn’t have been so easy to decide, considering she was raised a Tech Priest, but of course none of them were the ones that defended her back in battle. So she chose the latter, sitting with her squad.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sitting beside Anders, 99-Novem glanced around the mess hall as she ate, from the Commissars standing idly on one side, to spotting what seemed to be the most hated man in the whole regiment. Falsto the Crazy, a man with greasy hair who somehow managed to skip showers of what seemed to be years and wild angry eyes. Still, he walked like a sly beast, legs striding as he held his tray.</p><p class="western">Only for someone to trip him.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">His tray fell to a loud clatter and himself with the slightest of grunts. Standing up, his wild eyes were narrowed, face cut into an angry scowl. Quickly, he raised his fist and slammed it into the man’s face. Unprepared, the man still took the punch and stood, raising his own fists to fight back when a clatter at the table 99-Novem sat distracted herself from the scene.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Orion was rushing over to the two men and stood up to the muscular man that tripped Falsto, and raised his voice to him.</p><p class="western">“Hey! Pick on someone closer to your size!” It was that moment that the man reminded 99-Novem of Good Boy facing down two enemies. One was clearly enticing as he attacked him, but the other was new into the quarrel.</p><p class="western">“Virgo! Stand down!”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">So that was his name, Virgo. It suddenly came to 99-Novem why he was very familiar, as she remembered he was the heavy weapons leader. The new person that was currently speaking to Virgo as Orion trudged away was another squad leader named Hacilla, or as most of the people called her to her face and behind it alike, the Platoon Mom. Even the young and dumbs with no parents, or something those that were just plain orphans, called her mom sometimes.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Glaring, Virgo had sat down while Hacilla led Falsto away to the food line. Turning away once more, 99-Novem ate her food in between merely picking at it before she glanced at Anders and sent him a message to his data slate.</p><p class="western">‘Discovered package. Clearly not meant to be mine. Mortar shells.’ Was she wrong to be worried about such a thing?</p><p class="western">Picking it up and reading it, Anders gave her a look that could only say ‘seriously’?.</p><p class="western">“You sure it’s not just a logistics error? Those happen sometimes.” he scoffed and 99-Novem returned to her food with a begrudging frown. He was probably right, she didn’t think about that and felt stupid for it. In her effort to escape the feeling of foolishness, she looked around the mess hall once again and stopped to watch Virgo pin something on the notice board. At once, she stood and began to walk, taking long strides to do so as Orion trotted up and walked more-or-less alongside her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Once they got to the notice board, 99-Novem leaned in to read it. All of the tasks were written in the Revsheer Code, a code written in paranoia, no one but those part of the Revsheer 32nd knew the code. Not even the Commissars, which made 99-Novem glad she had learned it. One task was.. a difficult one. Rescue two poor morons that drunkenly bothered the Death Korps of Krieg and were paying the price for it in the brig, which was Hacilla’s task.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The next was more blatantly difficult, was Virgo’s. A shipment of explosives for the Death Korps was arriving and he wanted the explosives intercepted when they stayed in the Regiment’s hold for a night. It seemed both easy and difficult, they’d just need to sneak in and grab.. unless.. 99-Novem filed her idea for later as she read the final task. How the Quartermaster wanted some simple debts owed. Now <em>that</em> seemed to be the easiest.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">First, she saw Virgo walking out as she began to leave to find the Quartermaster. Diverting her course, she approached the man. Given that she herself was just 2.103 meters tall, she towered over a good portion of men, but those in her squad and Virgo quite nearly equaled her height. She paused for a moment, before getting his attention and asking him.. well more like broadly hinting to what she had.</p><p class="western">“Fifty thrones. One for each shell. It’s not exactly what I was wanting anyways. They explode, yes, <em>but</em> the ones I’m after have.. well.. <em>better</em> explosions.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">That wouldn’t do. Administratum error or not, fifty thrones seemed too cheap.</p><p class="western">“Seventy thrones.” Virgo’s mouth drew into a tight line before he huffed.</p><p class="western">“Sixty. Take it or leave it.” it wasn’t too much, but an.. alright middle ground. Nodding, she looked away, humming quietly.</p><p class="western">“I’ll check back with you in a few minutes.” she finally settled. She had other business to do, and she can ask the quartermaster what her prices would be.</p><p class="western">“Alright, there’s all the time in the world.” Virgo shrugged and began to head his own way. 99-Novem took the time to find and speak to the quartermaster on her job.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It was just a simple fetching task. Someone owed her a good bit of money from her gambling circuit it seemed. Walking, 99-Novem scoured the camp for the man, whose name was John, and found him in the barracks. Pausing at the door, she drew herself to her tallest and stepped inside. Just as soon as she started to walk towards the man, she was stopped.</p><p class="western">“What are you in here for?” the man closest to 99-Novem and the door asked, eyes narrowed.</p><p class="western">“I had reports a light was broken here.” it was a gamble, but reasonable enough, lights broke all the time.</p><p class="western">“There’s none broken here.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘<em>Shit</em>.’ 99-Novem made her way into the barracks and gambled with another chance.</p><p class="western">“A certain quartermaster says you have some debts, John.” she glowered down at the man, who was nonplussed at her appearance. She peered behind her with her mechadendrite to see that the men were less leaning on the wall, casual, and more standing alert and ready.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Well fuck. That’s not good</em>.’ as if on cue with her thoughts, a man took a swing. 99-Novem did nothing in her surprise except step back.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘<em>Trouble in barracks. Requesting backup</em>.’ she frantically sent to the team as she stepped back from another swing. The reactions she got weren’t the best. Good Boy was already bolting out of her quarters, all his speed put into his metal frame. Maximillius only sent a drab ‘<em>Ha, good luck</em>.’ while Orion only sent ‘<em>Nice</em>’ who just sent nice when their teammate was in trouble?! The worst part was that Anders didn’t even dignify her with a response, only left on read.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The shattering of glass to her left alerted her on Good Boy’s arrival. She <em>did</em> tell him to take the most direct route, so his calculations must have told him the window. Oh well, it worked in her favor as the large metal canine snarled and brought John to the ground, snapping in his face to keep him down before grabbing a gentle hold on his arm. With her distracted at Good Boy’s entrance, the closest man to her managed a good punch to her jaw.</p><p class="western">Stepping back, she shook her head and watched the absurdity of the situation as a man fell and landed on his face to the floor trying to make his way over.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Another swung at her with a stick, smacking her in the head. Luckily it shattered apart. Gripping her Omnission axe, she scowled and swung it in a loose arc, making those close scatter backwards to avoid it. Luckily, her gamble was right as the action brought her a precious few seconds to assess and react. She, and quite a few others, looked up as the front doors were opened. Luckily for her, the new man entering was 64-D, behind him his two lumbering servitors. In his hands was a large power maul, an intimidating thing in Adeptus Mechanicus colors.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">In one fluid swing, he hit the nearest man and upon contact he seized and fell to the ground, twitching as the electricity leaped through his veins. 99-Novem suddenly felt her head snap up, teeth clacking against each other as one of the men landed a solid punch. Behind her, where John and Good Boy were, she heard thudding and louding barking as Good Boy attempted to defend his master.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping inside the barracks, she saw three more familiar faces enter. One being the familiar form of Maximillius. Even from the distance she was she saw a certain look on his face. A look of focus.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Don’t you do it!</em>’ 99-Novem fiercely thought as her body tensed. She didn’t trust that man with his freaky Psyker ways. Behind her, 99-Novem just barely caught view of John as he managed to evade Good Boy’s grasp once more and locked himself in the door behind her.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Damn you!</em>’ her mind hissed as she went stumbling back when a wave of force suddenly smacked her. It was light, but still caught her off guard.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Of course that was Maximillius’s work! Turning around, 99-Novem took as much of a step back as she dared and attempted to kick down the door, only to get a dull thunk in return. Dropping down on her knees, she frantically tried to pick the lock when something lightly bopped her on the head. Looking up, she glowered at the man. She supposed she was in the wrong, considering she was in a fight and just dropped everything to pick a measly lock.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Good Boy managed to pin another man down, snapping threateningly when the door slammed open.</p><p class="western">“Commissar!” his voice was quiet and alarmed, yet he could have just shot a gun in the building with the way everyone stopped. A flurry of movement took place, with 64-D marching over to stand by 99-Novem. Snapping her fingers, Good Boy got off the man and trotted merrily to her side. On the other end of the barracks, Maximillius and Anders took an unconscious man and shoved him under a bunk.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping inside, Commissar Dorian radiated an aura of authority as his keen eyes scanned the room. Certainly taking note of the variety of fresh bruises and bloody noses there were. 99-Novem tensed in the silence as she and 64-D bent to the door, speaking of the best ways to repair locks.</p><p class="western">That was when there was a dull thud beneath the bunk the man was stuffed under.</p><p class="western">“Why is he under there?” Dorian raised an eyebrow to the men, 99-Novem was surprised to see Maximillius step up.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“He was drunk last night. Must have slipped under there to sleep it off.” Maximillius’s lie was convincing, except he didn’t seem to believe in it himself as Dorian slowly looked away.</p><p class="western">In Binaric, 99-Novem spoke to 64-D.</p><p class="western">“What do we do?” her voice was hushed even though the static.</p><p class="western">“Nothing. Don’t talk.” was his sturdy-voiced response.</p><p class="western">“That Tech Priest over there was trying to extort us!” one of the men snapped out. Freezing in place, 99-Novem gave a panicked glance to 64-D before looking to the Commissar and the man that accused her. Snorting, Dorian didn’t even need to look at the man.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“And <em>why</em> would a <em>Tech Priest</em> extort you?” was all he said before looking at her and 64-D “What is with the servitors?”</p><p class="western">“Heavy lifting.” came 64-D’s terse response. Raising an eyebrow, Dorian regarded him suspiciously.</p><p class="western">“They’re always with him. Wherever he goes, they go too.” 99-Novem raised her voice. Seeming to be satisfied, Dorian nodded and left.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">At once 99-Novem turned to 64-D and began to speak in Binaric once more on the best way to open the door. She couldn’t kick it down earlier, or pick the lock, but maybe 64-D could slam it open with his power maul. Finally her teammates walked over.</p><p class="western">“I need to get this door open, the asshole’s in there.” 99-Novem had a bone to pick with this John now. She was determined to get that money from him. Maximillius was the first to try, of course with his freaky Psyker powers. Even Anders, Daniel, and Erik attempted and failed to open it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">In the end, it took Orion punching it with his cybernetic fist. Once inside, it turned out there were two doors on either side. 99-Novem once more failed to open it, this time Orion’s luck failed and Maximillius was the one to open it. Inside the bathroom, the window was open. Scowling, 99-Novem snapped her fingers and sent a silent order to Good Boy. Find John. As soon as he bolted out the door, 99-Novem followed in suit. Luckily for her, it took less time as he cornered himself in a sort of alley.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“You owe money, John. I’m not going to ask nicely this time.” 99-Novem hissed as she stepped towards the man, growling lowly, Good Boy prowled beside her. With wide eyes, John snarled as he threw down a bag. Picking it up, it felt light.</p><p class="western">“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure you owed some more. Want to try tricking me?” Gritting his teeth, the man glowered as he picked through his pockets and threw another bag to 99-Novem.</p><p class="western">“Fucking Tech Priest.” John spat, spitting on the ground as 99-Novem walked to the quartermaster’s building. Stepping inside, she saw Orion following with her, but ignored him as she walked to the quartermaster and sat the money down.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Grinning, the quartermaster counted out a few coins.</p><p class="western">“Thanks for doing that job, ask me if you need any help with anything you need getting.” she winked and passed the coins to 99-Novem. Smiling in return, she thanked the quartermaster, leaving with her fifty thrones and gathered fifty of the hundred mortar shells. Finally finding Virgo, she exchanged the shells for sixty thrones and doubled back to the quartermaster.</p><p class="western">“I forgot to ask earlier, but hypothetically, how much would you charge for fifty mortar shells?”</p><p class="western">Humming, the quartermaster eyed her.</p><p class="western">“Twenty thrones.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem nodded slowly, turning away and thanking the quartermaster once again as she left. Walking with Good Boy, she stopped in her tracks as sirens began their wailing.</p><p class="western">“Report to the east wall! Now!” Mikial’s voice crackled over her earpiece. Turning, 99-Novem broke into a run at breakneck pace. She saw her fellow teammates soon as the massive wall lumbered into view, with Sargeant Mikial and Commissar Dorian speaking with each other.</p><p class="western"><br/>“Alright, I need-” whatever Mikial was saying broke off when whistling ominously screamed above them. In a distance, it was cut off with an explosion and men flying off the wall. Another explosion resounded in the distance as the sounds of battle began their eerie song. Snapping to them, Commissar Dorian scowled.</p><p class="western">“You two! Get to that artillery post and handle it! The rest of you get on the wall!” The first part of the order was directed to 99-Novem and Maxmillius. Once more, the familiar dread rose like a black snake in her heart.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They ran there instead of taking the underground travelling system. It was slightly slower, but Maximillius and 99-Novem both agreed that it was a bit more than suicidal to take an underground tunnel with bombs howling above. The artillery post turned out to be an ominous three story building with only firing slits for windows. Stepping inside, 99-Novem held her bolt pistol at the ready as they found a single corpse. To the left of the first room was a conveyor belt, rumbling away as large ballistic rounds made their way up.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Going up the stairs together, she and Maximillius had to jump back when they saw the first door as the barrel of a gun jabbed out and fired blindly. Beside him, the Junior Commissar assigned to Maximillius named Hector gripped tightly on his gun. Good Boy shifted his weight from paw to paw as Maximillius leaned around the corner carefully, gripping his staff tightly.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She could see that same face of focus any time the man used his powers. Only, she could see how his eyebrows furrowed together. How his shoulders tensed before he stepped away with a huff. Looking to the stairway to her axe, 99-Novem holstered her pistol and held her axe. Taking a deep breath, she sent a prayer to the Omnissiah that she wouldn’t just get shot and killed with this absurd idea.</p><p class="western">Raising the axe, 99-Novem ran up the stairs, yelling all the while. Shooting from his post at the door, she was glad he missed as she cleaved a nearly seven centimeter deep hole into the door.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Yanking the Omnission axe, she stumbled back and retreated down the stairs due to how cramped the stairwell was. Taking her place was Maximillius with Hector being a hound at his heels. Silent followed except for the constant hum and creaking of the conveyors. All at once, Maximillius straightened up, eyes popping wide as he screamed, stepping back only to find no floor beneath his feet when he tried to walk back onto the stairs. Fumbling down and hitting the wall, Maximillius groaned and blinked up at Hector as the Junior Commissar held his own pistol to his head.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Raising his hand, Maximillis sneered and raised his middle finger. Easing past the two, 99-Novem took a stun grenade off her belt and opened the door just enough to toss it in. After it went off, Maximillius shoved her aside, kicking the door open wide as he raised his force staff, said force-staff had a thick column of duct tape near the bottom. Following inside with Hector and Good Boy, 99-Novem took note of the stunned man lying on the ground. How his arms were covering his head in surrender. At least he wasn’t a problem.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem went to the conveyor belt, set on stopping the flow of explosives. Her hands fumbled with the wires and gears, only to end with her cursing in Binaric. Failure! Failure, failure, failure! Every time! She couldn’t open a simple door and now she couldn’t stop a simple conveyor belt! Behind her as she attempted to stop the conveyor, she heard a startling crack. Turning, she watched the final seconds as the Psyker’s force staff cleaved through the gun. Raising his staff once more, 99-Novem winced as the brutal energy from the staff forced the rebel’s head to cave into his chest in a show of gore.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping back, Maximillius diverted his attention to the prone form of the other rebel.</p><p class="western">“We should take his head, and put it on a pike.” his eyes went to 99-Novem and Hector. 99-Novem stared in silence as Hector narrowed his eyes, the pistol in his hand twitching.</p><p class="western">“Are you sure you’re fine?” It was both a question and an order. Smiling bleakly, Maximillius nodded and went for the stairs.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Heavy, metallic clanking greeted them as 99-Novem followed second, Hector and Good Boy making the rear. Stopping, 99-Novem felt the gears in her legs freeze. A cold dread filling her soul as she stared up at the behemoth that welcomed them. He was tall, certainly taller than two meters and <em>definately</em> taller than her. His armor was pure black with a silvery color from scratches and damage from battles in the past.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And yet it was Maximillius that snapped out of the startling stupor of surprise. Raising his staff, he was silent as he charged the rogue Space Marine and slammed his staff with all the force in his arms. Grunting, it only succeeded in slamming the Space Marine against the wall with a loud slam. Stepping back down the stairs, Maximillius tore the axe from 99-Novem’s grip. All she could hear at this point was the heavy, rhythmic thumping of her own heart.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stumbling back, 99-Novem’s hand went to her earpiece as she began to shriek in the common tongue and Binaric to the first people she thought of, 64-D and Sargeant Mikial.</p><p class="western">“Space Marine! Space Marine!” she pelted out a burst of static “Repeat! Space Marine! Space Marine! Space Marine!” she screamed.</p><p class="western">“Handle it then! Sending reinforcements!” Mikial’s voice barked back before cutting to silence.</p><p class="western">Watching with wide eyes, 99-Novem froze as the Space Marine took out his combat knife. A terrifying blade gleaming in the light. Raising it, he brought it down and she surely expected Maximillius’s doom. Yet the psyker managed to parry it with her axe. There was no sound from the Space Marine as he stepped back, raised his foot, and kicked the bald man down the stairs. A thud resounded from Maximillius as he floundered down.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem shook as she turned and tried to shove past Hector, only for the Junior Commissar to grab her robe and shove <em>her</em> past himself as he went up the stairs. She only thought of him as suicidal as she stumbled her way down with Good Boy. Finally on the first floor once more, she slammed the doors open. Anders was there, so was Orion and Erik. There were only three, where was the forth?! 99-Novem had no time to process her confusion at the lack of a man as she led the three remnants of her squad to the fight.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Getting to just the bottom of the stairwell, she watched the final moments of the Junior Commissar. How he fell with only a measly half stub of a chainsword. It was pathetic, but worst of all, 99-Novem felt as if her metal legs would give out as she stumbled back. In seconds the man was cleaved in half.</p><p class="western">99-Novem never liked the Junior Commissar. He made Maximillius’s stuck up ass look like a joyful puppy. Yet all the same she didn’t want to wish the deaths of her comrades.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Hey! You with the shiny armor!” 99-Novem shrieked, maybe if she distracted him good enough, it’d buy them some time to do.. something. She didn’t know what, just anything to remove the threat that was making her want to run and hide. It was worse than the terror and fear she felt in the spider hole. Anders and Erik backed away as the Space Marine did, and yet Maximillius held his ground like a snake waiting to strike. Her axe and his staff held in both hands. Leaping, the Space Marine gripped his knife in both hands. Within seconds, Maximillius leapt to the side and slammed her axe down with all the force he could muster it seemed.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sure enough, the axe bit deep into the joint of his neck, cutting deep into his chest. Ripping the axe away, Maximillius stumbled back, his bald head shining with sweat as his cape hung loosely around him. Stumbling past him, the Space Marine slouched into the corner, his large hand moving to the pistol at his side. Tearing it free, he raised the pistol and fired. All that welcomed them was a sharp ping and 99-Novem whipped around, her optical mechadendrite keeping an eye on the rogue Space Marine. The bullet had lodged itself into the shell at just enough of an angle to not explode.</p><p class="western">Yet.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Yelping, 99-Novem lunged for the stairs going down and ran, commanding Good Boy to follow. Footsteps alerted her to someone behind her, her optical Mechadendrite identifying Anders and Erik. As they emerged outside, 99-Novem looked up with wide eyes.</p><p class="western">What were those suicidal idiots doing?! A minute passed and she saw the massive silhouette of the Space Marine, and faintly past him were the frames of Maximillius and Orion if she stepped back enough. The Space Marine teetered on the edge with a much shorter man by his side.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Turning her head, 99-Novem looked towards a new sound, the low snarling roar of a Valkyrie. Similar to the Space Marine, it was pure black. Jumping, the Space Marine grabbed a hold of the Valkyrie on one of its open doors, the man beside him was now clinging to his leg. 99-Novem didn’t have too much time to focus on the flight when the building they stood near exploded. Stumbling back, 99-Novem trembled as she watched the rising pillar of pitch black smoke, fire, and falling debris.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">There was no way Maximillius and Orion lived, but she still had to hope. Maximillius <em>was</em> a bastard sometimes, but in the end he was a teammate. And Orion certainly didn’t deserve that, the man was alright. A bit too begrudging towards Tech Priests, but still a decent man.</p><p class="western">She knew she would have time later to process the harrowing fight, and that they’d all, hopefully, have a moment to heal their wounds and sort things out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Always Cold - 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">99-Novem never liked funerals. They always made her uncomfortable and reminded her of the battle they fought and died in. Of course, funerals were even more uncomfortable when they involved friends and those she was close to. Sure her squad had a Psyker that was a completely pompous asshole, and another was a normal guardsman that decided he had a never ending bone to pick with her, but nonetheless there were more alright people in the squad. Such as the man that was part of many being held in the mass funeral.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Daniel. The man who she remembered being missing in the fight with the rogue Space Marine. He was a likable man, a friend to everyone. 99-Novem was saddened to learn that he died when the first round of men showed up at the wall, with Orion abandoning all reason to cleave the man’s skull with his own cybernetic arm. It was sad but, in the end, inevitable. Any one of them could die. By the Omnissiah, <em>she</em> or Maximillius could have been in Hector’s place, a mere bunch of ashes at this point or sliced clean in have by a rogue Astartes.. It never did any good to think on the what-if’s, a problem she seemed to have been developing as of late.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Still, she witnessed Daniel’s funeral, at a place that was respectful at least. 99-Novem didn’t want to intrude as she watched Mikial, Hacilla, a nurse, and Orion help carry him to his grave. As soon as it was acceptable, she left. He was gone now, certainly somewhere infinitely better. At least their squad’s numbers weren’t crushed more when that building exploded. Maximillius somehow escaped without many wounds and Orion escaped with some minor wounds and his right leg missing.</p><p class="western">A very lucky occurrence if anyone asked her. Her own cybernetic legs proved themselves more reliable than flesh ones that’s for sure.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The mess hall’s atmosphere was more muted. Gone were the rowdy chatter that somehow seemed to manifest even in the darkest mornings, all replaced with a low murmur and hunched shoulders. Sitting down, 99-Novem halfheartedly picked at her meal before eating a few bites. She was joined by Anders, Maximillius, Erik, and Orion soon enough, despite how Orion looked worse-for-wear. They didn’t bother saying morning or anything like that, a nod and returning to the meal was just as alright.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Behind them, 99-Novem heard the clinking of bottles before a thunk landed in front of her on the table. Looking up, she saw a milk crate full of what looked to be wine bottles, continuing her gaze past it she saw the pilot they had rescued when they first landed on this scrap of a planet, Jezabel. Gingerly, she sat a smaller glass of brown liquid in front of Orion.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It took 99-Novem a moment to realize it was chocolate milk. Blinking, she watched as Maximillius took two bottles and walked off, already chugging away. Anders took another two and thanked Jezabel for the gift. Drinking his chocolate milk, Orion thanked Jezabel with the closest thing to a smile. Taking the last two bottles for herself, 99-Novem thanked Jezabel for her gift. Watching Orion already chug away at one entire bottle, 99-Novem drank the rest of her water before filling the tin cup with some amasec of her own.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Getting up, 99-Novem made her way away from the table, walking throughout the fort. However, the more she watched the more she felt the relaxed atmosphere tense, then she noticed the groups of men running. Then as she walked she noticed more and more men, all in various degrees of being armored and ready to where the Valkyries were stationed.</p><p class="western">“<em>Shit</em>.” was the first word out of her mouth as she turned to Good Boy, letting the cybernetic canine gingerly take the bottles with an order to put them in her quarters. Turning around, he bolted.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem settled on following the soldiers, full sprinting to the Valkyries. Behind her, she heard the thud-thud-thud of Good Boy’s metal paws thunking against the ground as he caught up to her. She nearly slipped on her way into the Valkyrie and sat into the chair by her squad as soon as she could, leaning forward to grab onto Good Boy’s handle, her hand settling on the bolt pistol at her hip. According to the Commissar, an Imperial fleet had warped in nearly a day or so before and they were moving into the ship to help the guardsmen reinforce critical positions.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And somehow, 99-Novem still found it in herself to be surprised when they were placed by the reactor of the ship. The wide secondary hallway, leading off the utterly <em>massive</em> main hallway, had a sort of barricade up. On the side they were walking towards was a shotcanon with doors on either side of the small “bunker”. Just after that was a squared off area, two tertiary hallways on the left and right with heavy blast-proof doors that could be pulled down. Finally, there was another set up “bunker” on the other side. Orion stumbled his drunken self to the first bunker, Maximillius took the bunker on the opposite side, while 99-Novem crouched behind a barricade on the left with Good Boy opposite of her, and Anders with Erik took the right in a similar manner.</p><p class="western">With them and the large squad armsmen, was a single Commissar.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As they took position, she and her squad were told of the set up and what was going on. The secondary corridor went to the reactor, how the scans yielded low information, only reporting a single black ship that made 99-Novem’s skin crawl.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem felt the massive ship vibrate beneath her feet as the ship’s thrusters turned on. It was an intimidating feeling, as if the ship were a great beast rumbling from its slumber. Yet it also felt as if it were a ticking bomb, ticking and tocking to the time of their unlikely demise.</p><p class="western">99-Novem tossed these thoughts from her head, they were fine. Even if the ship <em>somehow</em> got magically boarded, it’d be unlikely anyone would get to the reactor quickly. Hearing talking break the rumbling silence, 99-Novem looked towards the guards as they listened to the vox-caster.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They met the enemies and they were to prepare for impact. That was fine, the shields were certainly up.. and yet the guards only had expressions of unease and fear as the ship shook around them, faintly she could hear something. That wasn’t good at all. Murmuring to each other, the guards glanced to the Commissar and each other as the ship shook more.</p><p class="western">Suddenly, the world went black.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">All of a sudden it felt as if 99-Novem’s mind went into overdrive, leaning towards the secondary hall leading away from the reactor, she used her optical mechadendrite to try and spy for enemies, or.. anything really. Light flickered nearby as the armsmen turned on their flashlights, another nearby messed with some buttons as some flood lights were activated. With the reaction of the guards, 99-Novem had the creeping feeling that something was most certainly amiss. To each other, the armsmen were asking what was happening over the vox-caster and then with continued looks of unease, they quickly made their way to the reactor. Leaving 99-Novem and her squad alone.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">In the distance, somewhere else on the ship, there were loud thuds. The P.A system crackled to life, ordering all hands to internal battle stations.</p><p class="western">The battle had begun.</p><p class="western">Behind them towards the reactors came the close-by bangs and snarls of shotgun and autogun fire. 99-Novem jumped where she was, eyes glancing to the distant darkness as she took a deep breath to steel herself. Traitors. Someone there was a traitor, or there were multiple traitors.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Footsteps alerted her to the opposite side of the reactor. Peaking around the corner, she squinted into the darkness. In a booming slurred voice, Orion called for two men in Imperial uniform to halt. She didn’t like the looks of it.</p><p class="western">“Behind us! They’re right fucking behind us!” with the close-by fighting, it was hard to hear if there really were people behind them, so 99-Novem snapped her fingers and sent Good Boy to scout behind the two men.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just as Good Boy passed them, she saw through his vision that the men’s uniform was blood stained. She suddenly had a sinking gut feeling that the men weren’t allies. Yet it was too late to call for her Cyber-Mastiff as he ran into the darkness. Her point was only proven as the two men skidded to a stop in front of Orion’s bunker and began to shoot. All the while 99-Novem’s focus was torn between the men and Good Boy as he peered through a tertiary hall, seeing a group of black-clad figures, odd patches on their shoulders, along with two naked corpses on the ground.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Looks like she found where their clothes went. Reaching for her belt, 99-Novem took a tight grip on one of the six stun grenades she had gotten, pulling her arm back, she chucked it. Well, chucked it was a less useful word for lightly-tossing-it-towards-the-two-men. With a loud BANG the world flashed white as ringing took over her ears. From the bunker Orion was in, she heard his slurred cursing. At least, in between the ringing in her ears.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Shaking her head, 99-Novem struggled to get her bearings once again as she sent a silent order for Good Boy to return, and just as the clearing cleared there was a nearby gunshot. When her vision returned, she saw the shape of Anders and two corpses. There were no more gunshots in the direction of the reactor, and she leaned against the wall with a relieved sigh. Her relief wasn’t set in for long as footsteps took over from both left and right tertiary halls.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Panicking, she lunged towards the heavy blast-proof door that came down in the hall she was in and pulled down just as she got a mere glimpse of the men on the other side, with a trembling hand she spoke into the ear-piece.</p><p class="western">“Reactor surrounded! Traitors suspected!” she barked, flinching at the returning voice.</p><p class="western">“Stop hogging the damn coms!” the voice snarled and cut off. Wincing again, she nearly smacked herself in the head with the butt of her pistol at her stupidity. <em>‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’</em> just tell the entire possible traitor force that there were traitors and the <em>reactor</em> was surrounded! How stupid could she get?! Very! Very stupid appearently!</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Novem! Man the shotcanon!” Orion’s voice sounded less slurred. Nodding, 99-Novem made her way to the bunker and took up position beside it instead, with Good Boy still on the opposite side. As she did, she heard some sort of marching from the other tertiary hall. Soon it stopped and was replaced with an explosion.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Did that maniac just throw a </em>grenade<em> in a ship?!</em>’ There was more marching, yet it was behind her. Towards the reactor. Remembering the gunshots from earlier, 99-Novem uneasily crouched, turned around, and peered towards the reactor.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">From wall to wall was a row of men forming a sturdy shield wall. She knew at once their weapons couldn’t get through that. How rebels got such armorment, she couldn’t guess, probably the same reason they had a rebel space marine on their side.. If it <em>was</em> their Space Marine after all. Nearby was the familiar sound of Orion’s heavy stubbery firing, yet his bullets did nothing but plink harmlessly on their shields.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Grabbing another one of her stun grenades, 99-Novem reeled her arm back once more and threw it. Instead of falling too short, it sailed harmlessly over their heads, with only a distant flash in the darkness. It was worth a try. 99-Novem glanced in the direction of Good Boy and sent him the order to try and intimidate the men. It was always worth a shot as sometimes a large metal dog terrified the shit out of a man in the sturdiest armor. Which was very useful.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They weren’t intimidated. Of course they weren’t.</p><p class="western">“Get ready, I’m shutting off the lights.” Orion murmured into their squad’s ear pieces. Just as soon as he finished speaking, the world turned black for a second and 99-Novem quickly brought up her optical mechadendrite, viewing the world in a mix of various temperatures, with the shield wall being a bright variation of heat signals.</p><p class="western">She couldn’t see anything take place, and heard nothing as one of them tossed something.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A flare. A weak one at least as it did jack and barely lit the front of the bunker Maximillius was in. Moving up, 99-Novem crouched with Good Boy behind the wall the bunker was posted at. She watched as they adjusted, shields slamming against the ground and something being aimed over the front. Ducking behind, she tensed as they fired. There was nothing she could do except.. Maybe if she distracted them. Holding another stun grenade in her hand she looked towards the shield wall. Throwing the stun grenade, she raised her bolt pistol and fired towards the shield wall.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Wincing as her attempt flubbed once again, she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. Near her in the tertiary hall Anders and Orion was in, she heard gunfire. When she looked back up, there was something faintly shimmering in the low light. Narrowing her eyes, she scowled as it was certainly Maximillius’s doing. Of course it was, weird things like that were <em>always</em> from the Psyker. She froze at the sound of footsteps and leaned back to look at Anders and Orion. Her hand was ready to aim, to shoot at whatever new threat showed itself.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Luckily she didn’t need to worry this time as she smiled at the sight of Hacilla and her platoon. <em>That</em> was a relief in itself. Hacilla was reliable, and after the Imperial traitors showed up, 99-Novem was only inclined to trust her own regiment instead of false Imperial Navy wannabes. She wasn’t close enough to hear whatever Orion said to the woman, but she <em>was </em>close enough to see him idly toss a grenade as if it were a ball. Second nature even. Turning back to focus on the shield wall, she glanced away from the flash of the explosion, feeling glad that at least Orion’s aim was true as the shield line was utterly <em>decimated</em>.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Firing harmlessly, the shotgunner’s aims were all off as 99-Novem spotted a central woman take the limelight. Dressed as an Imperial Officer, 99-Novem at once thought her auto-rifle looked too bulky. Too late, she realized just why as a sort of ‘thoonk’ noise left it.</p><p class="western">A grenade launcher was attached to it. Of course there was a grenade launcher. Rebels couldn’t just be simple heretical assholes that did simple heretical things. They had to be complex, geared up, well trained assholes that did asshole things like pretend to be allies.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">In her peripheral, she heard the heavy blast-proof door Orion was just barely under creak and slam down as the grenade hit the floor with an even louder bang with a bright flash following. Hitting the ground, 99-Novem groaned. If she thought the flashes from her own stun grenades were overwhelming, <em>that</em> most certainly <em>was</em> overwhelming. All she could recognize with her overloaded senses was heavy footsteps marching around her. When her vision restored itself, she saw the door she closed earlier open with slam as men marched forward. The commander of the enemy troops, she seemed to be anyways, raised her voice and bellowed an order for the men to leave.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Tensing, 99-Novem was frozen as she looked up into the barrel of the nearby rifle the commander held. It was a horrible way to die. Not in the middle of a furious fight, but vulnerable on the ground, knowing she couldn’t defend herself from the barrel. 99-Novem felt herself shaking, refusing to admit to herself how she wanted to cry in relief as the commander lowered it and left without a word. As if on a horrible, wretched cue, the door Hacilla and the rest of their squad were covered by, opened. 64-D standing by a panel with his servitors.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As it turned out, when 99-Novem and the rest of the squad were learning what had happened during the rest of the ship and the fleet during the battle, it had turned out that the enemy had hidden their fleet behind a nearby asteroid belt and nearly completely pummeled the Imperial Navy’s fleet. While the Death Korps were left behind on the planet, they had entered Warp, the rebels tried to take the ship and were stopped because of her squad’s efforts in front of the reactor. That aside from the air conditioning being offline due to an immature use of explosives, the ship was otherwise alright. Finally, the ship was taking them to the distant planet of Ingus Mundus.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fire World. Wonderful, it sounded like a <em>pleasant</em> vacation. 99-Novem bitterly though as she walked the ship’s halls. She felt angry and bitter at how she just <em>left</em> all of her mortar shells and her bottle and a half of amasec back at the fortress base. After that bitch of a fight, she could have really used it. In fact, she wished she did like Orion and just chugged down the two bottles, it wasn’t like she did much in that fight anyways. Stopping as she found 64-D, 99-Novem paused her inner ranting.</p><p class="western">“You want to go to the library with me, I’d like to talk.” looking back to her, 64-D shook his head in response.</p><p class="western">“I’m helping to repair the ship. It’s busy work.”</p><p class="western">“Could I join you? It’s not like I’m doing much as it is.” 64-D nodded slowly in agreement.</p><p class="western">“Yes, you can.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Always Cold - 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">99-Novem <em>hated</em> this part of anything. Warp travel. In fact, anything to do with being on these massive ships. They didn’t feel cramped, but after a few months they certainly felt close to it. All she wanted right now was a sky over her and something else besides grey hallways, grey hallways, slightly darker grey hallways, and soldiers, soldiers, and more soldiers. In fact, any sort of scenery change would’ve been good. She paused as the P.A system spoke. In her silent, semi-ranting stupor, she didn’t catch most of it except for something about a macrocanon near her being damaged.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Considering she was close by, 99-Novem shrugged and made her way over to it, still thinking as she did. At least she could find alone time if she wanted it, the ship was <em>huge</em> and it wasn’t hard to sit in a corner looking like you were doing something.</p><p class="western">Stepping inside, she looked around at the mix of crew and armsmen, with one of the latter standing beside an open pipe.</p><p class="western">“What’s going on?” she spoke as she approached the one by the pipe.</p><p class="western">“Hydraulic recoil compensator’s been damaged somehow, so someone has to go down in there and fix it.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem paused as she looked into the pipe, it was large enough for her to crawl in on her hands and knees.</p><p class="western">“In there?”</p><p class="western">“It’d be weird to have this pipe open otherwise.”</p><p class="western">“..Right.” she frowned, glanced around, before finally crawling through the pipe. It wasn’t as long of a crawl as it could have been as she emerged from the otherside, looking about a small room filled with pipes, vents, and ominous darkness in the nearby sub-duck halls.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She ended up doing a lot of walking to find what she was looking for, even felt like she got turned around at some point or another. Eventually, she found the recoil compensator, and couldn’t see much of what was really wrong with it. At least aside from the obvious like the fist sized dent. It looked as if someone just walked up and punched it before leaving it alone. Leaning closer, she hummed quietly. All she still saw was a small scratch by the little dents.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fumbling for a moment, she found what she was looking for. Duct tape. With all due respect to the massive machine, she tore off a few strips of it, speaking to its machine spirit as she did so. She didn’t really <em>know</em> what was wrong, but at least she could help a little now and provide a temporary fix until someone more capable could help. Right then it seemed that the world.. well... warp? She supposed? The ship? She settled on the ship. It seemed the ship had decided to start messing with her as she heard something skittering nearby. Something heavy.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Pulling her axe from her back, 99-Novem cautiously approached, uneasy and slightly nervous. Was it a rat? A really <em>big</em> rat but still a rat? She hoped so, she’d rather deal with a big rat than whatever heavy thing that sounded like. She seemed to have found the location as she stopped at a massive grated cylindrical vent. Now, she couldn’t see what was inside due to the darkness, but as she peered in with her mechadendrite, she froze. They <em>seemed</em> human enough by silhouette alone, but their head signatures were warmer. As if their metabolisms were all somehow faster.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The group of human-ish things seemed to be sleeping, with exception to one twitching and flailing in its sleep. She was distracted from the scene by heavy footsteps to her left. Looking down in the darkness, she saw nothing. Not wanting to risk it, she dove under the nearest thing, a low overhang of pipes. In front of her she could see the grating and the grates over the floor vents. With a steady rhythm, the heavy footsteps continued and 99-Novem couldn’t figure out just what it was.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Her questions were answered as a large leather boot stopped in front of her, 99-Novem felt foolish and let out the quietest of sighs as she looked up at the boot. It seemed to have been some armsman roaming beneath the ship’s hold. At least, until her eyes went up and she noticed the green skin above the boot. Green skin. Only <em>one</em> creature she knew of had green skin, Orks. And those things were big mean things that only had one goal: Your annihilation and very bloody death.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Behind the ork, she listened to the heavy scurrying plunking beneath the floor grating. Nonchalantly, for an ork anyhow, the green beast continued. After a few minutes passed, she heard the ork’s guttural bellows and bright high-pitched shrieking. 99-Novem took the distraction to crawl out from beneath the pipes, letting the weird things fight the more beastly things. Of course she didn’t think about how where there was one ork, there was bound to be more.</p><p class="western">“WAAAAGH!” startled, 99-Novem shrieked and scrambled away, stumbling before finally straightening.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">That ork was hot on her heels and there was <em>no</em> way she was about to risk getting her head punched off by a xeno. No thanks. Sliding around the next corner, 99-Novem practically lunged into the pipe and noisily scrambled up. Behind her, she heard the heavy breathing of the ork and the noises of its chase. Her gloved hands did their best to find purchase on the smooth metal as she hurriedly crawled, and when she did get to the edge she grabbed the rim and threw herself out.</p><p class="western">“Ork! Ork right there!” she yelped just as the armsmen shot it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Taking a deep breath, 99-Novem got to her feet and dusted off her robes. Rolling her shoulders, she looked to the officer of the macrocanon.</p><p class="western">“Is it working now?” she asked as the man picked up a data-slate attached to the gun. Frowning, he looked at her.</p><p class="western">“No.” was his terse response. Nodding slowly, 99-Novem told them she’d return soon. Walking out of the room, she was glad to quickly find 64-D.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“I need to use your servitors for something. May I please borrow them?” sure they weren’t exactly.. suited for just outright repairing, but she’d have <em>something</em> covering her back. Glancing to the servitors that followed <span><span><span>him</span></span></span>, 64-D gave a slight frown, looked back at her, and nodded.</p><p class="western">“I suppose you can. Return them as soon as possible.” as always, 64-D’s voice had a sort of monotone-equse feel to it. Shaking his hand, she thanked her fellow Tech Priest and returned to the macrocanon room, along with an order for Good Boy to return to her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Getting the servitors down the pipe was.. a feat in of itself, but as she re-investigated the hydraulic recoil compensator, for someone that should have been able to repair things with slight ease, she felt foolish at being lost. Tapping her axe’s handle, 99-Novem risked a quiet hum. It wasn’t the dented part with the small hole she patched that was the problem, and if it wasn’t that then it would have probably been the hydraulic supply. And <em>that</em> meant going into the bowels of the ship. Which as she saw earlier, was a perfect vacation.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The servitors followed noisily behind her as Good Boy trotted excitedly in front of her. His paws practically rattled against the metal floors and 99-Novem just knew if he had a tail it’d have fallen off with how hard he’d waggle it. Turning down a short corridor, she approached a heavy seeming bulkhead. Swearing she could hear some sort of voice behind it, she balanced her axe in one hand as she struggled for a moment to open the weighty door.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just as she opened the door, the speaking stopped as multiple men looked at her. All of them wore heavy robes, and she could faintly see a much more fancily dressed man with gold-esque trimming. To her right she saw a hand stick out of a vent and wave. She had a hunch that it was Orion. Worst of all was the stench, rot and other less desirable scents.</p><p class="western">The silence didn’t stick around for long as the fancy-looking cultist raised his hands and bellowed.</p><p class="western">“The Imperium has come to snuff us out!” he roared.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem didn’t have too much time to process it as Orion dove out of the vent, charging towards the fancy cultist. Stepping back, 99-Novem motioned the servitors in front of her. Snarling, Good Boy bolted towards the nearest man, barking wildly as he snapped his jaws with a sharp mechanical clack.</p><p class="western">“Oh, Dark Gods, lend us your power!” she heard the man howl. Because of <em>course</em> they were actual cultists and not suspiciously dressed men in the bowels of the ship.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just as 99-Novem raised her axe, aiming it towards the man flanking 64-D’s servitors, she heard a low choking noise, followed by Orion’s voice breaking into sobs. Swinging her axe, she stepped back. Knowing from personal experience, she knew combat <em>really</em> wasn’t the best time to collapse into tears. Yet unlike herself, Orion didn’t have a secure spider hole to hide in, both from enemies and allies alike. She felt a little bad for the man, but had to shove it away as the servitor’s chainsword growled beside her. Behind her was a similar growl followed closely with the miniature explosion of a bolter. Just as nearby was a cut off scream, crunching bone, a sort of gurgling noise, and mechanical snarling.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Good Boy and someone learned <em>very</em> quickly that a hundred or so pounds of metal with razor sharp teeth was <em>not</em> too nice to deal with. It also meant that 99-Novem was going to have a big mess to clean off of the dog. Somewhere off in Good Boy’s direction was a bang, and after a moment of panic, 99-Novem shrugged it off when Good Boy didn’t make a wounded noise or otherwise report injury.</p><p class="western">“I am here!” it was in the distance, clearly on the other side of the large room, but nonetheless Maximillius’s voice rang like a bell.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Not having enough time to process the confusion on just <em>how</em> and <em>why</em> most, if not all, of her team was in the same location at the same time, 99-Novem raised her axe, sidestepping to avoid the servitor beside her as it stepped away from the men’s crude shortswords, she brought her axe down. Watching how the man fell apart in half, innards falling beneath him as his corpse collapsed, she returned her focus at the sudden distance drop in Orion’s sobbing and the snarling roar of the chainswords the servitors had.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Snapping her fingers, she sent an order to Good Boy to aid the closest of her companions, who turned out to be Maximillius shooting men with both a gun and the laser implanted into his cybernetic eye. Moving from by the door with the servitors following, she glanced over to look at Good Boy as he mauled another man to death, viscera and gore painting him. Yet as she did, she froze at the sight of the ten foot deep pit. Catching a glimpse of Orion in the pit, she was much more focused on the <em>other</em> things in the pit.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A large pile of ork and.. whatever those pale human-esque horrors were, corpses, yet that wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the green-ish ghosts rising from it. Freezing in place, 99-Novem held her axe tightly as she shook. No, she didn’t want to see those ghosts ever again. She’d beat whoever summoned those things.</p><p class="western">99-Novem’s breathing was growing into a much more frantic wheeze as she shuffled back by a footstep. ‘<em>Don’t cry</em>’ was steadily becoming an echoing mantra as she shook her head. Good Boy was mauling a man as a pale woman shot <span><span><span>soon-to-be-corpse</span></span></span>.</p><p class="western">“Hey, psyker! Help me over here!” Orion barked out as he pointed at the ghost clinging to him. His clothes lightly stained from the corpse blood in, what 99-Novem had decided to call, the corpse pit. An awfully fitting name for such an awful thing.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Trotting over, Good Boy tried his best to snap at the ghost clawing at Orion’s leg. Stumbling slightly, 99-Novem ended her gaze on the ghost as a heavy gust of wind blew from nowhere and faded. Being on a ship in the middle of the warp, she knew for a fact that <em>that</em> was not natural in any way. Regaining her balance, she yelped in panic as three ghosts took hold and began to drag Good Boy into the pit.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She didn’t <em>exactly</em> know how deep that pit was, but she <em>did</em> know that it was a bad idea for those things to drag her faithful companion into it. Fumbling at the pouches on her belt in her panic, 99-Novem took out the sacred unguents. Now she knew the sacred oils were usually meant for rituals involving her and her ally’s guns, how they’d make sure they wouldn’t jam by appeasing the Machine Spirit within.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Mumbling a fevered prayer to the Omnissiah, she more-or-less dumped the sacred unguents in hopes of sending the ghosts away. Instead, she ended up with a confused and soaking wet Good Boy with a bunch of disgruntled ghosts. In the distance, she heard the sound of a lasgun firing and sighed in relief as the ghosts faded away. Looking around, she searched for the hydraulic systems in charge of the recoil compensator, to her dismay it was in the pit.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sighing, 99-Noven clambered into the pit with the servitors following. Pausing once to cringe. Looking over the pipe, she couldn’t fathom what specifically was wrong besides a few obvious spots. Fumbling, she sighed and muttered a sincere apology and prayer to the Omnissiah as she once more applied duct-tape for the second time that day. Or at least she thought it was day. Or whatever the time was counted for the day, she could have checked a chronometer, but decided not to bother.</p><p class="western">Especially deciding not to bother with checking the time when the familiar word ‘WAAAAGH!’ was bellowed in the distance.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Soon joining the roar of orks was a much more higher pitched scream of a similar type from the pale things screaming earlier. Turning around and ordering the servitors to follow, 99-Novem scrambled out of the pit as quickly as she could. To the nearest pillar opposite of her, she ordered the servitors to with Good Boy remaining by her side. Re-holstering her axe onto her back, she took out her bolt pistol. There was <em>no</em> way she was taking on an ork point blank like that.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">To her right in the room Orion had gone into with the pale woman, she heard gunshots.</p><p class="western">Lunging out of the vent Orion had waved from earlier was one of the pale things, crawling on all fours with its eyes tightly screwed shut, it was eerie to watch. From the doorway 99-Novem herself from, had three orks in it instead. Her hand went to her belt at once, yanking a stun grenade from it and threw it. For once it was an actually good throw! Too bad the orks didn’t even <em>blink</em> at the bright flash.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Darting in front of her, Good Boy barreled into the pale humanoid, snapping and snarling as he mauled it. Stepping to the side slightly, she ordered the servitors to shoot at the hulking green beasts. Swivelling in the way only a servitor could, they unleashed a thundering cacophony of shooting upon the orks. While one did lose an arm, one just sort of <em>popped</em> in an explosion of gore.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stunned, 99-Novem turned her head to watch as Orion and the pale woman stepped out from the side room, the former man unleashing a hail of bullets, killing the one armed ork as the woman shot and killed the pale thing Good Boy was mauling. In her moment of distraction, she heard another gunshot in the remaining ork’s direction.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem was sent stumbling back as she collapsed to the ground. With a shocked wheeze, her hand felt at her torso. The bullet the ork had shot her with bit through her armor. Looking up, 99-Novem kept one hand against the wound as she aimed her bolt pistol. Good Boy had latched himself onto the ork’s arm, and as she took care to aim, she took a deep breath and fired. <em>Luckily</em>, her aim was true and the ork collapsed in a green heap.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Walking over to Good Boy, 99-Novem was surprised to watch Orion pat the blood-soaked Cyber-Mastiff on his head as the woman, who turned out to be a medic, patched her bullet wound. She’d have to go to the medical bay for a bit better of a treatment, but nonetheless 99-Novem was unlikely to just die anytime soon. Which was good.</p><p class="western">That wasn’t to say that the bullet wound hurt like a bitch, it did. It felt as if the ork had punched her in the gut, or if she got a small cut and oil got in it, smarting with pain and irritating.</p><p class="western">“What were you doing down here?”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Looking up with a confused expression, 99-Novem silently raised an eyebrow at Orion.</p><p class="western">“What? Why do you need to know?”</p><p class="western">“I need an alibi, so just tell me what you were doing.” Only a quick glance at the ork corpses let her make up her mind, she had to repay him, and besides not many of the squad actually paid Good Boy much mind.</p><p class="western">“Repairing the hydraulic recoil suppression.” she paused “And killing orks, heretics, and whatever Omnissiah damned creatures those things were.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Orion nodded, returning with the medic to the other room as she led Good Boy and the servitors out of the sub-decks. Beyond relieved that she was out of the cramped bowels into the more open halls of the ship. Returning the servitors was a quick job, along with stopping by the medical area, she just <em>knew</em> that wound was certainly going to sting a lot after she got some rest. The only thing left on her ‘errands’ list was to speak to the quartermaster, managing to convince her to use her favor for whatever Orion decided to ask for next.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She owed the man and couldn’t think up much of what the favor would do for her anyways. With that done and over with, she was roaming the sprawling halls when a voice echoed through the P.A system.</p><p class="western">“Platoon Bellatore to Deck Astra. Platoon Bellatore to Deck Astra.” it was Sergeant Mikial’s voice. Sighing, 99-Novem walked to the Astra deck, part of her curious of what the calling was for while the rest of her absolutely dreaded it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A Commissar greeted her team, along with a few others, leading them to a specific row of seats. Opening and closing her fists, 99-Novem waited as she glanced around the rows of chairs and the Commissars idly standing. Upon the sort of dias-esque stage, a Junior Commissar approached the microphone.</p><p class="western">“Please be seated, briefing will begin now.” his voice was curt and completely business. Stepping aside, Sargent Mikial Johnson took his place as 99-Novem and the rest of the platoon sat down.</p><p class="western">“Alright everyone, for our next mission, we’re being sent to Ignus Mundus. It is a mining planet that sends ninety percent of this sector’s materials and..” Mikial paused with a sort of sigh “Fuck it. The planet is shit. It’s covered in craters, lava lakes, and we’re defending land rigs. Any questions?”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Standing, Hacilla spoke.</p><p class="western">“What are the land rigs armed with?”</p><p class="western">“A few heavy stubbers.” Mikial’s voice responded, 99-Novem frowned. A few heavy stubbers? That was all? A <em>few</em>? Standing, Virgo took his turn to speak.</p><p class="western">“What about tanks? Are there any?”</p><p class="western">“It can’t support it.anything else?” Mikial’s voice became more of a drone. 99-Novem stood up for her own turn to ask a question.</p><p class="western">“What are we protecting the land rigs from?” it never hurt to know what they were going against.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Hostiles.” came the terse reply and 99-Novem frowned as she sat down, looking up at Orion when he stood.</p><p class="western">“What hostiles?”</p><p class="western">“Same rebels we’ve been fighting.”</p><p class="western">“Ah.. <em>shit</em>.” 99-Novem muttered as she stared at Mikial. Of course it was those rebels, they were nothing but a pure problem. At this point, she’d rather go into the sub-decks and eliminate more freaky tourists with death pits.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Or.. maybe not.. those ghosts were terrifying after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Always Cold - 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">99-Novem’s wound had healed finely. A two months had passed, boringly, but smoothly enough. In fact, the only eventful moment that happened was when the squad had gotten an entire shipping container. A few arms-men were snickering and 99-Novem thought it to be some sort of trick being played or an Administratum error.</p><p class="western">Orion was the one to open it, and lo and behold.. It was empty. With both her eyes and her mechadendrite, 99-Novem assumed it was probably a <em>while</em> considering the dust inside of it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem was where the other Tech Priests lurked about on the ship when she felt the lurch of the ship leaving the Warp. It was always unsettling to leave and enter the Warp. A sort of wrongness, an unease that something wasn’t right. Yet she told herself that it was just nerves getting to her, nerves of going to a planet of fire. Of more battles with the rebels.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Part of her knew it wasn’t, the part of her that told her it was nonsense to be constantly on the edge. Constantly thinking that the armsmen she just passed were secretly infiltrating rebels. Pausing in her walk, she sighed, optical mechadendrite ensuring she was alone, no matter how temporary and with exception to Good Boy. Hiding her face in her hands she took a deep breath.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It wasn’t good to constantly doubt her comrades, no matter how close. It wasn’t healthy and it bred more seeds of distrust that could damage them in a fight. On the other hand, it was difficult to trust them, considering that many outside and within the regiment were strangers.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She kept walking after her uneasy train of thoughts were shut off. She didn’t have time to dawdle, she needed to focus, and before 99-Novem knew it, two days had passed and she was in the valkyrie piloted by none other than Jezabel. The ride was rocky, idle chatter peaking here and there. 99-Novem saw her squad looking out the nearby windows and did the same. She tightened her grip on the seat’s buckle at once. The sky was ashy with bright streaks of lava rivers on the planet’s surface.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They didn’t have much time to behold this as a different line on the planet gladly sidetracked her from her revelry. It was a long line around thirty, possibly even forty land-rigs. From the height they were small, miniature even, but she knew they were massive things. Circling once, Jezabel landed the ship skillfully. Minutes passed and the back door opened, revealing three people.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Following her comrades, 99-Novem with her eyes and optical mechadendrite alike, assessed the trio of men. In the center was a man of average height, yet the main defining feature was his <em>very</em> fancy uniform. Complete with embroidering. To his right was a slightly-less fancily dressed man, then on his left was a man in ornate battle armor.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem didn’t like these people.</p><p class="western">“Hello, guardsmen!” An awkward pause filled the air before 99-Novem and the rest of her squad quickly barked out various ‘sir’s and ‘yes sir’s.</p><p class="western">“Welcome aboard to my land-rig, the Carlith!” the man’s voice was loud and proud, in fact it personally reminded 99-Novem of the condescending way a Commissar spoke.</p><p class="western">“My name is Captain Godwyn, and I expect my rig to be treated with the utmost respect. You are dismissed.” It was short, not sweet, and the trio of men left as soon as they met her and her squad. Trotting up to them was a boy that 99-Novem assumed to be at least seventeen.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“The Captain’s always a douche like that, come on, I’m showing you to your quarters.” Nodding, she and her squad followed him to their quarters. Which turned out to be small, cramped, and just enough to sleep in with not much else. Which was fine, 99-Novem wasn’t looking forward to idling her time away in a single room for hours on end. Not much time passed when she and the squad placed their things when the man in elaborate battle armor stepped into the doorway.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Squad Bellator, with me.” his voice was curt, and turning around he began walking quickly. 99-Novem scrambled to follow her squad, stumbling once before steadying. His voice was strict, borderline droning as he explained the ramparts on the port and starboard side of the rig and the points they were to guard. With hardly so much as a dismissal, they were told at once to go and guard their posts at once.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem didn’t know which was worse, the burning monotony of staring out into a dismal planet guarding the land-rig from those damned rebels, or getting shot in the gut by an ork. While the.. ‘silence’ was nice, it was also putting her on edge.</p><p class="western">“You think there’s some way to.. swim in lava?”</p><p class="western">“Swim? I mean.. Probably sure. I’ve seen a chunk of metal last a good minute? Probably if a Space Marine wanted to, he could.” a scoff followed.</p><p class="western">“As if.. say, I think a tech priest could? Like that one right there.”</p><p class="western">“That one just looks like it’s got metal legs, could probably just wade on in? But then what? You’re up shit creek..” chuckles arose from the men.</p><p class="western">“Got any sticks? Wait what were you talking about?”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem’s optical mechadendrite glanced over the two men as they conversed over the best way to scuba dive into lava. As if that would ever be feasible or a reasonable thing to do. At least, the two were until a third man showed up asking for a Lho-stick and inquiring what they were chatting, starting the conversation anew with more jokes.</p><p class="western">Thus the days passed, <em>slowly</em>. Painfully slowly. The only sense out of the monotony of hours standing on a hot rampart on a lava planet was navigating the corridors to get to the <em>next</em> rampart they were to guard.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They were doing the usual routine, at least 99-Novem was, of standing solemnly and staring out into the wastes, debating on examining her bolt pistol or Omnision axe for the thousandth time when the security captain approached. His battle armor still ornate as ever.</p><p class="western">“All of you, with me.” his voice was curt as he turned around and walked quickly away. Lurching up, 99-Novem followed after her team and the security captain, Good Boy at her heels.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The nameless security captain led them to the captain’s office. 99-Novem not only knew this from Captain Godwyn being front and center, but that the captain’s elaborate dress wasn’t only restrained in his uniform. Behind him was the first mate once more on his left, and the security captain moving to his right.</p><p class="western">“Greetings,” the captain said, 99-Novem had to give it to the man, he didn’t waste a bit of time, “I have something for your squad to do. The first is killing a creature that has gotten upon the rig and has been killing multiple crew members. I need it eliminated. There is also a second task.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Only killing some creature? Sounds simple enough.” Maximillius was the first to speak amongst them.</p><p class="western">“What about the second task? What is it’s objectives?” 99-Novem stepped to the side, despite being one of the tallest there. Looking between her and the captain, Orion followed suit.</p><p class="western">“Yeah, we can split up and do both.” he crossed his arms. Captain Godwyn frowned and eyed Squad Bellator.</p><p class="western">“No. You cannot, you must choose as a squad. As for the second task, it is classified information until decided.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem didn’t like that. The secretive task could have been anything. Scowling lightly, she shifted her weight onto her other foot. Unable to get a word in as Orion and the rest of the squad agreed with Maximillius as they voted and took on the task.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They were now walking in the belly of the land-rig. Pipes lurked above the rafters as the lights were dim. Her hands were tight upon the grip of her bolt pistol, with Good Boy walking quietly beside her. There weren’t any sounds aside from the mixed quiet footsteps of guardsmen boots and metal feet. They were passing an intersection, both of them ominous.</p><p class="western">“Hey! Where the fuck are you all going?” 99-Novem jumped as Anders spoke loudly.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Turning around, she saw as he pointed to something painfully obvious that she, Good Boy, Orion, and Maximillius all missed. Somehow they had missed a clear trail of blood heading down the corridor to their left. Glancing down both sides, she sent Good Boy to scout ahead. Watching through his optical feed, she watched as he turned into the nearest room and stopped just inside the doorway. Inside was a large mound of flesh and blood, with pockets of shining objects. On the corner of the left wall was a clearly melted hole.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Good Boy’s found something. Some sort of pile in that room and a hole.” 99-Novem’s voice was hushed. The hunt was truly on. Almost as if finding the blood trail had activated it. Approaching slowly, weapons ready, the squad positioned themselves at the doorway, stopping at a standstill as stomping echoed down the opposite hall behind them.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Turning around, her pistol was raised and ready. She tensed and prepared to shoot when a man emerged into view. Dressed in guardsmen uniform and holding a flamer, his face was a lopsided grin.</p><p class="western">“Don’t shoot! I’m here to help ya!” his voice bore a decent accent to it.</p><p class="western">“Name’s Nescio, but I’d rather be called Blaze if ya don’t mind.”</p><p class="western">She and her squad were silent as they took in the man amongst their midst, with only the barest of introductions. He walked near the front of them as they proceeded down the hall.</p><p class="western"><br/>Behind her, the shrill sound of a lasrifle exploded behind 99-Novem. Her optical mechadendrite whipped back to watch Anders shooting at something above them. She froze and looked up with her eyes and mechadendrite. Steeling herself, she watched as some sort of.. canine-esque thing clung upside down to the rafters.</p><p class="western">“Is that some sort of dog?” Maxmillius’s voice was incredulous as it twisted its head to look at them. Beady yellowed eyes glaring.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Beside her, she caught a glimpse of Orion moving as his stubber roared out with his shooting. 99-Novem could only wince as the bullets tore apart the pipes above, the land-rig’s spirit certainly wasn’t going to like this. Hissing, the creature above snarled. Glaring, Orion raised his gun once more, firing another volley of rounds. With a shriek the creature stepped back. Shoving past them, Blaze raised his flamer and fired. The flames arcing towards the beast.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Yet Good Boy was in the cross-fire. Yelping as the promethium flames melted partially-through his sturdy metal exterior. The creature above was also on fire, yet didn’t seem to bat an eye at its predicament.</p><p class="western">99-Novem just wanted to grab the new man by the ear and yell at him at the carelessness of his actions, <em>not to mention</em> that of course his flamer wouldn’t work on the thing! It must have been native fauna of this planet and <em>of course</em> resistant to <em>fire</em>. Yet mainly it was that her Cyber-Mastiff was currently <em>on fire</em>.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Anders was quickly the next to shoot, the hits from his lasrifle doing practically nothing to the creature’s sturdy hide. Scowling, she raised her own bolt pistol and fired. Only to wince as nothing happened, only pipes getting more decimated.</p><p class="western">Dropping to the floor from its perch in the rafters, the beast seemed to eye them before opening its mouth nigh-impossibly wide. Just at the corners of its mouth were two holes.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Her silent inquiry on what it was doing was answered as a glob of alien spittle smacked Maximillius in the chest. The psyker gave a yelp as the flak chestpiece melted through, and then gave chase as the dog-like thing leaped over the flaming Good Boy into the room.</p><p class="western">Stopping just short of the Cyber-Mastiff that was currently on fire, Maximillius’s cybernetic eye fired a bolt of laser fire towards the beast, only to miss.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping closer, Orion leaned passed the psyker and tossed a frag grenade. It must have missed as Orion muttered a few curses. Looking towards Anders and Erik, 99-Novem watched as the two men cautiously approached the second door, with the former man shooting quickly inside. Quickly rushing over, she saw another one of those beastly things inside.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As she did, 99-Novem’s focus was split as she kept a constant watch though Good Boy’s view. Watching through his eyes as he lunged and the creature dodged with a snarl. Leaping over him, the dog-alien thing snapped furiously at Maximillius’s face as it tackled him to the ground, doing its best to tear into his chest.</p><p class="western">She had to reassert herself in her position as Anders sidestepped the second creature.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Cursing, Maximillius wacked the other beast with the blade of his new force sword, wherever he got the thing. Yelping, it stumbled back.</p><p class="western">“By the Emperor, dammit!” Maximillius roared “The damnable thing is regenerating!”</p><p class="western">Looking between the creature she, Anders, and Erik were facing and then to the semi-prone Maximillius, a dread filled her. Not only did these things resist las-fire, actual fire, and spit acid; they also <em>regenerated</em> their wounds?!</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">If 99-Novem knew that she wasn’t going to offend the bolt pistol’s machine spirit, offend the Omnissiah, and get herself in a pit of trouble, she would have thrown down her pistol and said no thank you.</p><p class="western">But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.</p><p class="western">Good Boy watched as the creature was flung by some unseen force against the wall behind him. How Orion raised his stubber once more and fired, the alien beast’s body shaking from the bullets.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As if that wasn’t over-kill enough, not that she blamed them, Orion tossed another frag grenade and ripped a chunk into it. Looking back towards the three men in the doorway, Good Boy watched as Blaze leaned from behind Orion and chucked in a grenade of his own.</p><p class="western">It flew over Good Boy well enough, until the Cyber-Mastiff registered a foreign object latching itself onto him. In mere milliseconds, his audiovisual feed was shut off with the resounding, crackling explosion.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“You bastard!” 99-Novem shrieked “You damned bastard!” Good Boy wasn’t only a valuable asset in combat, he was a companion. Any right tech priest in their right minds could see that. If she could see machine spirits, no doubt it would have been bright and warm.</p><p class="western">Beside her, Anders and Erik fired their lasguns at the living beast. Angrily, 99-Novem holstered her pistol and took her Omnision Axe into her hands.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She couldn’t hurt Blaze, that was unlawful and would get her into even <em>bigger</em> trouble than anything else, but good thing there was an awfully convenient alien practically begging for wrath to be expelled into it. Raising her axe, 99-Novem swung down with her full strength only for the blade to bite into the floor. The impact sent an uncomfortable rippling feeling into her arms. Quickly, she raised her axe again, baring her teeth in a snarling grimace as she cleaved the beast in half.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping back, 99-Novem shook as she held onto the handle, glaring at Blaze as he followed Maximillius inside the room. She wanted nothing more to do with these things. With a quiet sob, 99-Novem vented her frustrations onto the beast’s corpse, chopping the front half of the beast. Not only was it a good safety measure, in combination with her upset feelings and crying, it made her tired. Tired enough to remind her that she couldn’t beat the shit out of Blaze, as much as the frustrated part of her wanted to.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping into the room Blaze and Maximillius were in, she saw a bright spot from where the man had a lit lho-stick in his mouth. Glowering, she collected as many of Good Boy’s remains as she could both carry and find. Her tears had dried, but she was still hurt. Good Boy, good and loyal, Good Boy, didn even have the grace to die in combat like Daniel or Hector, merely blown up by an irresponsible guardsman.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Some bitter part of her thought, as they made their ascent to the security captain’s office, that maybe, <em>just maybe,</em> the Omnissiah had cursed her with some sort of wretched bad luck. Multiple times she failed in some way or nearly did. The orbital battery many months before, failing to properly repair the hydraulic recoil compensation pipes, really just countless things. Little things, big things, she was a <em>failure</em>.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She clung tighter to the remnants of scrap, shaking lightly. She needed to prove herself. Be a better tech priest.</p><p class="western">Entering the office, she watched as Orion presented a large, oblong object to the security captain. An egg, it must have been from one of ominous piles in either one of the rooms. Pausing to glance at Anders and Erik, she noticed how they were both trying to hide something as well. Something large.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Glaring, she looked back at the security captain as he took the egg.</p><p class="western">“Good, this will do nicely.” he hummed as he took the large egg beneath one arm.</p><p class="western">“What even were those things?” Orion asked, to which the security captain smiled.</p><p class="western">“Ah, yes. Those were what we call Wrathhounds, scientifically known as Canis Acidum.” 99-Novem glared at the security captain as he spoke. Go figure, they stood up well to both names. Being both angry dog-things and as acid dogs.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem huffed as they marched to their security posts on the ramparts. Yet she didn’t have Good Boy to help bide the time away. She found herself looking down in the familiar spot he sat, getting unsettled by the lack of metal pitter-patters. The lack of a heavy weight on her bed.</p><p class="western">She started to miss a lot of things, certainly not the view of rock and lava, lava and rock.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She and her squad were in their barracks, for lack of a better word, lounging (which truly meant sitting there, bored, trying to figure out what to do for some sort of entertainment) when the intercoms crackled to life.</p><p class="western">“<em>All crew battle stations, port side ramparts. All crew battle stations, port side ramparts</em>.”</p><p class="western">99-Novem would have rather had the boredom as she and the rest of her squad rushed to their stations, only to behold a land-rig opposite of them, men clad in black uniform with those odd patches and auto rifles.</p><p class="western">She didn’t have Good Boy this time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Always Cold - 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Entering a pillbox, 99-Novem’s palms were already sweaty as she held her axe. She was a drop trooper, not one to simply stand guard like she has been. In fact, she’d much rather a perilous, silent drop in the dead of night than <em>this</em>. Shuffling back, Orion at once shoved past her, but it didn’t matter as she watched a third man join two others off the ramp, two guardsmen corpses at their feet.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Raising his stubber, Orion let off a volley of shots that missed the three as they dove for cover. Stepping up beside him, Maximillius flicked his hand towards one of the men and she watched as one of their guns threw itself from their hands, hitting the nearest man’s head. He fell to the ground with a solid thump.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Aiming over his shoulder, Anders fired his own volley, the third man falling down. Unholstering a pistol, the unarmed-now-rearmed man fired, missed them, and dove behind a column. Even with a pistol, he could get a good headshot on them unless Maximillius or Orion got him, or even 99-Novem herself unless she dared to get close.. or use her last two remaining stun grenades and hope that the Omnissiah would give her some luck with the task.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She dared. Taking a hold of the stun grenade, 99-Novem raised it and threw it, flinching at the almost dainty noise it made hitting the door frame and flying back towards them. Shoving past Anders and herself, Erik grabbed a guardsman by the back of his shirt and threw him onto the grenade, making him absorb the effects as he made a startled gag from being yanked back like so.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Edging forward, Orion stepped halfway to the pillar before stopping, aiming his gun at it. Following him, Maximillius did likewise. Anders, Erik, and herself remained in the pillbox.</p><p class="western">From behind the column, the man threw something. Just as quick to respond was Maximillius’s hand. A solid thud followed with the man slumping out from behind the column. 99-Novem did a double take at realizing that he was just throwing his pistol to surrender. Oh well, tough luck on him either way.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Looking out towards Orion and Maximillius, she was confused to watch as the psyker approached the ramp the rebels were using to board the land rig. Standing proudly, cape billowing behind him, she heard his voice clearly as he shouted to throw the men off if they dared to come close.</p><p class="western">“Tech priest! Get over here!” he barked. Holstering her axe, 99-Novem switched to her pistol as she eased forward to the bottom of the ramp.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“<em>Here</em>.” Maximillius huffed, holding two las-packs.</p><p class="western">“Are you crazy? I’m not getting up there!” she called back over the wind. Maximillius glared in return.</p><p class="western">“Get up here, we’re getting rid of this damn ramp.” it dawned on her what Maximillius was wanting to do. Overload the las-packs and make them detonate. Something that would get rid of the ramp at the cost of offending the Omnissiah, no doubt about that.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She stepped onto the ramp, taking the packs from Maximillius as she bent down to set them to overloading. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, another wanted to stop and ask the Omnissiah for forgiveness, another was <em>really</em> eager to have this work and make the rebel’s day a little harder. Sure it wasn’t satisfying revenge for Good Boy’s demise, but ever since <em>they</em> had shown up, everything was going wrong. Well, more wrong. 99-Novem was certainly unlucky.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Standing up, she and Maximillius retreated. She stood to the left of the ramp, stumbling back before steadying herself at the brutal shockwave that roared from the explosion. Sighing, 99-Novem watched as the metal tumbled down. All that was left of the ramp was a garish and ragged jutting of metal on either land-rig.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She had no time to properly get into a more defensive position as the snarl of chainsaws bit through the air. Looking up, she watched as a man with a modified grav-chute leaped from the rebel’s land-rig towards them. Luckily for her, Orion raised his stubber and hit the man. Unluckily, his direction was towards herself.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She meant to jump out of the way, she really did, but the corpse’s velocity was too quick. Instinctively, she grabbed him as she stumbled back, teetering dangerously. 99-Novem opened her mouth to pray as she hoped the Omnissiah would forgive her and help her just this once.</p><p class="western">She was ignored as she fell. The air was knocked out of her as she hit the land-rig’s treads. Groaning, 99-Novem propped herself on her arm to catch her breath. No doubt she bruised something, and it was only lucky she had cybernetic legs.</p><p class="western">“Get the axes!” Orion’s voice was hardly heard over the droning of large, heavy gears.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Standing and looking up, she saw as Maximillius’s head joined Orion’s in peaking over the ramparts.</p><p class="western">“Grab the axe and I’ll get you up, otherwise we leave you down there!”</p><p class="western">That was hardly fair at all! She scowled as she bent and grabbed the only chainaxe that was there. Luckily she still had her own and her bolt pistol. Sticking to their word, the two lowered a grapple rope, hook-first. Stepping on and holding as tight as she could with one arm, 99-Novem clung helplessly to the rope.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She must have been a quarter of the way up when gunfire returned from above. Right off the bat Maximillius let go, turning around to do whatever he could to aid in the fight.</p><p class="western">Orion’s grip slipped. 99-Novem felt as if her heart lurched into her throat it was hammering so heavily. Her arms, weak enough as she was, were trembling with the effort. She was already beginning to whisper a prayer.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Please- Please don’t drop me. Oh, Omnissiah please hear me, I’m sorry for what I did earlier, it had to be done.” she paused her murmuring as she got close to the edge, she leaned up with the axe’s handle pointed towards the man. The ground below Orion shook as a near deafening clap of sound reached her. Letting go of the rope, Orion leaned over the rampart, arms reached out. 99-Novem felt his fingers momentarily catch onto the edge of her sleeve, before ripping.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">His arms flailed to catch the axe next as she plummeted. Small rocks fell before her, and before she knew it, she was breathless once more against the conveyor belt. When she landed, however, she heard the dullest of cracks within her right arm as she rolled onto her back.</p><p class="western">She wished she hadn’t, for the blocks of rock and plasteel blocked her view.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She felt as if she was suffocating, she couldn’t quite smell and all she tasted was metal. With a wheeze, she tried to move but only felt bolting pain in her arm. She certainly broke that. She was covered in who knew how many bruises, but at least they were just that, bruises. Bruises and who knew what from inhaling things she shouldn’t. She could hardly move anyways.</p><p class="western">99-Novem didn’t even have enough room to properly cough, only managing to gag on the blood worming its way down into her throat instead of out of her nose.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Truly it was an odd feeling, a mixture of true suffocation from her bloody nose, to the weird semi-swimming not-clarity of her head. Some far off segment of her thoughts knew she’d have a concussion either now or before the day was out.</p><p class="western">Gravity lurched below her, and the rubble moved. Some desperate part of 99-Novem hoped that <em>maybe</em> just <em>maybe</em> it was one of her teammates somehow rescuing her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘<em>They wouldn’t. They threatened to leave me behind. Then again, they’ve come to me before after being rude. Anders is always silent, he’ll certainly come and help me. Someone-’</em></p><p class="western">The odd mixture of sunlight and lava broke in between as the rubble flew apart from her. Once more she was falling, the wind clawing at her face. Looking up, 99-Novem caught a glimpse of someone far off on some sort of ladder, holding something.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘<em>They did abandon me</em>.’ it dawned on her. A realization cruel and unjustified. It twisted in her gut like writhing worms. Either that or vertigo from how she was twisted in the air, robes flapping about.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Orion wanted his Omnissiah damned- No-’</em> her thoughts sputtered to a halt as she looked at the quickly rising ground.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Did the Omnissiah really let me be damned?</em>’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The mere idea of the thought was heart wrenching, something she followed for so long being so against her, but she threw it away. It was impossible, this was all just a series of mistakes. Twisting herself and throwing out her broken arm, she gritted her teeth as she plummeted feet first. Or, would have if a falling piece of rubble didn’t knock into her first, ruining her attempt as she landed on the rocky ground.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Wheezing, her good arm clawed at the ground. Even without the adrenaline in her veins, she felt the wrenching pain soon to come. Her hand came up to her ear piece as she babbled to her squad her position.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She realized too late into her words that she was getting silence, not even dignified static. Pulling the earpiece away she stared at the pieces that had faint traces of blood, her voice cracked into a shaky sob. It was broken. She’d have to find another way somehow. Another way with broken limbs.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">99-Novem would do it. Rotten luck or not, she would. She’d just.. needed rest for a moment. Gather her thoughts into a semi-coherent jumble, make her legs work, and return to her squad.</p><p class="western">She just needed a moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Always Hot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nomen Nescio rescues a Guardsmen from the mysterious Revsheer 32nd. He never expected his day to go the way it did, however.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Nomen Nescio lived a rough life, it was Ignus Mundas after all. The Fire World.</p><p class="western">However, he absolutely loved it, as close as he could get to loving it anyways. Being called a name that literally meant you didn’t know the name was harsh, but he was <em>Blaze</em> now. Even if that was a joke on his tendencies to literally play with fire, he didn’t care. He was a proud soldier on his new home, the Carlilth, serving under the asshole of a captain, Godwyn. Well, the <em>security</em> captain, but nonetheless served proudly.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Yet his past didn’t matter much as Blaze was running down the halls, his crew had no need for a flamer in the deep depths of the Carlilth after all. He was much better used above ground where his tendencies could flare as free as his fire. A lho-stick was already lit in his mouth. Pausing at a window, he leaned out of it, hoping to catch a glance of whatever was on the upper decks before he threw himself into the fray.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He didn’t, however he did see a chunk of a rampart missing, a rope, and a face down below on the treads. It didn’t look like one of those coal-boys (what he had dubbed the rebels), so he set down his flamer and tossed down the rope. They were scattered between the whole of the land-rig, at least at the windows, since there was always that one slip-up to make you fall down the equivalent of two stories.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blaze should know the best, he did that once. Turns out, being drunk on the ramparts was a <em>bad</em> idea, who knew! Leaning out again as he picked up his flamer, he watched the man climb up and helped him in once he got to the window.</p><p class="western">“Hey, pal!” Blaze grinned towards the man, he didn’t remember his name right away, but he <em>definitely</em> recognized him.</p><p class="western">“<em>Squad Bellator to 30th level habitation deck, corridor Callix.</em>” The order was issued once over the P.A system that soon crackled to being mute once more.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The man took off running. Shrugging, Blaze followed him. He didn’t have specific orders per-say, just defend the Carlilth. If that meant helping out this squad, sure. Maybe he’d see some action or it’d be just a <em>very</em> extended smoke break. Pulling the lho-stick out of his mouth, Blaze tossed it down, grounding it to kill the flames before replacing it with another. He didn’t dare pull out a lighter since he’d have to fumble with his flamer to not drop it yet.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He and the man stopped once as they reunited with his squad. Something was missing, or more like some<em>one</em>. There was baldy with the cape, two normal looking dudes (not counting the man he was running with). It took Blaze a moment to realize that it was because their tech priest was gone. It was probably doing tech priest things. Squad Bellator was stopped at a <em>massive</em> hole, nearly three meters in the least.</p><p class="western">Yet Blaze wasn’t stopped up at that, he was staring at the corridor of corpses. He knew at least a few of those men. Glancing over to Baldy, he realized he was muttering something, a steady ‘mine, mine, mine’ like some sort of child. It dawned on him who he was, Maximillius the psyker of that Revsheer regiment.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The squad took focus on the corridor, Maximillius stepping up first and speaking in a low voice.</p><p class="western">“It wasn’t me… so that means..” his face turned into a fierce snarl as he began to yell “Face me! Face me unless you are a coward!”</p><p class="western">Blaze stared at the psyker as he marched his way down the corpse-filled hall, bellowing his taunts.</p><p class="western">Of course he tagged along with a squad that had a battle-crazy psyker. Taking a deep breath of the lho-stick’s smoke to steady himself, Blaze followed in line with the other men, sticking beside a man.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Turned out his name was Erik and he wasn’t much of a talker, that was all he could get out of the man any-how was his name. They got just outside of the doors of the control room before they stopped.</p><p class="western">Leaning to the side, it dawned on him that there <em>were</em> no doors. At least, the doors that were there were in pieces on the floor. Inside of the reactor room control room was a large, hulking figure in black.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘<em>By the Emperor.. It’s a Space Marine. A real, honest-to-the-Emperor Space Marine.</em>’ It was an amazing sight that was for sure, yet there was something terrifying about the armored soldier. Something about the stripe of silver marring the otherwise solid black chest, aside from the scratches here and there. An aura of intimidation really. Tapping the psyker on his shoulder, Blaze spoke in a hushed whisper.</p><p class="western">“What’s the big deal?”</p><p class="western">“<em>I</em> nearly killed that big bastard and he’s <em>mine</em>.” was all the psyker snarled. He reminded him of those Wrathhounds, a big intimidating snarling face.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">After Maximillius spoke, his face turned to that of focus. Sort of akin to the face a man took on when something wasn’t quite right. As if his cybernetic eye wasn’t startling enough when he saw it in action the first time, watching a chunk of the door slowly spin into the air was something else. Holding his breath, Blaze watched as it hovered for a second before flying towards the space marine.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It only hit him with a solid thunk. A flash of movement caught Blaze’s eye as the trooper with the stubber threw something towards him, a frag grenade. Standing even quicker than Blaze expected, the space marine grabbed it and threw it behind a pillar in their direction.</p><p class="western">He let out a breath he didn’t realize he held. So they really did move <em>that</em> fast. Truly a stunning sight to behold. At least, it would have been if the space marine wasn’t an enemy.</p><p class="western">Well, maybe it was still stunning, in its own terrifying way.</p><p class="western">Once more, Orion threw another frag grenade and the space marine’s bolter flew up.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The gun fired three times. The first two bullets were fine, they missed all of them completely, but the third surely hit <em>someone</em> as blood flew into Blaze’s face. And onto his clothes. In fact, his whole side felt coated in it. Looking to his left, Blaze’s heart leapt to his throat.</p><p class="western">All that remained of Erik was the lower half of his torso, that fell to the ground with a soft thud.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Once more the space marine surprised Blaze by vaulting behind a control console, crouching low enough only his helmet and bolter were seen. Baldy was the first to move, leaping and crouching behind a console adjacent to the space marine and closest to themselves. He crouched half-up, one hand stretching out with his palm up before closing into a fist.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Nothing happened as far as Blaze knew, aside from an odd shimmer taking place soon around the caped man. Blaze didn’t move from behind Orion and the other man.. Anders was his name, he remembered now. Taking a krak grenade, Blaze threw it. <em>Luckily</em> there were no robot dogs to mess up his throw. <em>Unluckily</em> it only latched onto the console the space marine crouched behind before detonating.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He took that as a good sign, however, as he now had no cover. Anders was the next to throw a grenade after himself, it hit the marine’s right pauldron, exploding with a light mist of blood. Amazingly, the space marine didn’t even seem to register the wound.</p><p class="western">“Can I get one of those?” Orion leaned over, holding out his left hand.</p><p class="western">“Uh.. yeah. Sure.” Blaze stammered and gave him one of his krak grenades. If the tales of space marines were true, he doubted his flamer would do shit against that armor. Maybe make it a little warm, but nothing at all.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It was almost terrifying to watch the krak grenade hit the same pauldron, explode, and only show a large mist of blood as he <em>stumbled</em>. Blaze noticed then the large sort of backpack object in the corner. That wasn’t what made Blaze worried, it was how the space marine sprinted for it, raising his bolter and firing a volley of rounds.</p><p class="western">“Oh <em>fuck</em>!” he shrieked, he didn’t have time to duck. At least, that’s what he told himself as he froze and watched the bullets get caught in some sort of invisible shield around Maximillius.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Stepping back, Maxmillius held onto a fancy sword.</p><p class="western">“Face me! Face me, you damned coward! Do you not have honor?!” he bellowed as the space marine grabbed his pack.</p><p class="western">The space marine laughed, a deep victorious noise as he jumped out a window.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Without a beat, Orion raised his hand to his earpiece.</p><p class="western">“Uh.. there was a space marine in the reactor.”</p><p class="western">“Yeah, he was messing with the controls.” Blaze followed up with.</p><p class="western">“Well, we have a bigger fucking threat!” was all that crackled over in response.</p><p class="western">Blaze took another drawl from his lho-stick, he’d need to replace it soon.</p><p class="western">“<em>Squad Bellator to starboard ramparts. Squad Bellator to starboard ramparts.</em>”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blaze once more decided to stick around with Squad Bellator as they made their way to the starboard ramparts. Luckily they weren’t too far away. Looking out of the pillbox, he saw <em>another</em> land-rig, this time the whole side was lined with ramps and between this pillbox and the next were two of them.</p><p class="western">Revving a chainaxe, Orion charged into the nearest fray, chopping a man clean in half. Behind him the armsmen were shooting away at the enemy troops.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He paused in what he was doing to watch as Maximillius focussed on a man, his gun pulling itself free from his hands and into his comrade’s eye.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Good thing I’m not those men</em>.’ Blaze snorted, coughing on smoke from his lho-stick. Anders raised his gun and fired as Blaze charged outside, turning to the right of the nearest ramp and unleashing the fires in his flamer.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They screamed in pain from the flames biting their skin and their clothes, falling off the ramp. Blaze watched with grim satisfaction as the enemies fired and missed multiple times. By the Emperor, he nearly laughed as one of the men tripped on the ramp and fell to the depths below. Beheading a man, Orion’s face was painted with gore from Erik’s demise and the men he tore apart with the chainaxe.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blaze moved to the next ramp, raising his flamer. Battle cries arose from the enemy vessel, as men with their own flamers emerged. Grinning, Blaze readied himself. It wasn’t at all often he fought fire with literal fire. He didn’t move fast enough as the enemy’s flamer set him ablaze.</p><p class="western">It didn’t do much to him, sure it stung like hell, but the most he cared about was his ruined lho-stick.</p><p class="western">“Fuckers.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Multiple men dropped from Orion’s deadly aim, before shots rang out from his stubber that entirely contradicted Blaze’s thoughts. At least it took down the flamers. Reaching down, he pulled out another lighter and lho-stick, lighting the lho-stick before tossing the lighter away. The armsmen and Anders killed another total of two men before Blaze moved to the ramp closest to the rest of the squad, and threw a grenade upon it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blissful silence lasted for nearly a minute before a man stepped onto the ramp in billowing robes with a staff. Only two types of people showed up to battle like <em>that</em>, idiots and psykers. The robed man had two men flanking him.</p><p class="western">“Ha! Another one of my kind shows up!” Maximillius’s voice chimed victoriously, as if he already won the battle.</p><p class="western">Yep, it was a psyker. If anything, other psykers knew that for <em>sure</em>.</p><p class="western">The armsmen in the pillbox with Maximillius opened fire. Their bullets did nothing. Orion had opened fire too, but he missed completely.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The psyker reached out with his empty left hand as he looked at Maximillius. Arcs of electricity flickered viciously from his hand towards Bellator’s psyker. He couldn’t quite see Maximillius from the angle he was at, but the pained sound that he heard was evidence that it hurt. A lot. It sounded like a sort of snarling squeal.</p><p class="western">Blaze stumbled back a step as something hit him. Cursing, he patted himself with one hand and flinched when he felt the bullet hole. He was shot. Well, had been shot.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">One of the two men with the psyker moved in front of him, raising his gun. His attempt to protect his master failed when the psyker collapsed with an audible crunch.</p><p class="western">Something about hearing the <em>crunch</em> of bones with no visible cause was unsettling, nauseating even for Blaze. Nearby, Anders took care of some men near Orion as Blaze moved closer to the ramp that held the fallen psyker, and held tight to the trigger of the flamer, unleashing its promethium fueled flames.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He didn’t bother restrain the snicker as the psyker’s arms flailed, his pained wails filling the battle-torn air, as his comrades fell off the ramp to their flame-infused doom. Looking away from the scene, he watched Orion fire and miss once more, Anders took another one down. Two grenades from the enemy rig fell towards them, missing them all, to the relief of Blaze.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As Blaze turned his focus to the men approaching the ramp, he snickered as one man’s gun once more flung out of the grip. Unluckily for the rebel, he had the sling on. Luckily for<em> them</em>, it took him and his comrade off the ramp.</p><p class="western">“<em>Squad Bellator, report to hanger bay.</em>” it was a single phrase, clipped this time.</p><p class="western">Hoisting up his flamer properly, Blaze marched after the Squad. They were certainly in the bulk of the fights for sure. Perhaps after the rebels fucked off, he’d ask if the security captain could place him in their squad.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Entering the main hangar bay, they were greeted by the firstmate, who never looked so haggard and worn until now. He directed them to a large room with a security checkpoint in the middle, in the middle of said security checkpoint was a ten foot tall tower.</p><p class="western">“Defend it.” was their only order as he left them. Left to their own devices, Blaze took post to the left of the tower, leaning against the corner as he smoked on his lho-stick. Orion stood on the right, adjusting his stubber as Anders and Maximillius went on top of the ‘tower’.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It was calm, quiet even. The only thing that’d make the moment better would be a bottle of something decent and the battle to be gone. In fact, if it was just a routine security patrol. Blaze then supposed that he wouldn’t have met Squad Bellator again if he was doing something routine like being on the starboard side instead of the port like he <em>was</em>.</p><p class="western">But <em>man</em> that bottle of amasec the other night was <em>worth</em> it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As if on cue, the screaming began.</p><p class="western">Charging down the hall towards them were four men, hardly dressed men. What clothes they had were threadbare tatters. One held a revving chainsword, two held two handed swords, another held two chainaxes, both snarling.</p><p class="western">Stepping up and raising his flamer, Blaze uneasily glanced at the other men. Maximillius had a cold focus about him while Orion was raising his stubber. Anders looked as if something was off, however, and if he had the time, Blaze would have offered him a lho-stick.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Reeling his arm back, Blaze threw a grenade towards the men, stepping back as it smacked the doorway and tumbled towards the corner vent, exploding harmlessly.</p><p class="western">A single laser shot hit the ground at the chainsword man’s feet as he, and the others, ran towards them. Another laser shot missed.</p><p class="western">“Fuck!” Maximillius yelled “How am I missing?! It’s literally my eye!”</p><p class="western">Blaze would have snickered if the man with chainaxes didn’t lunge up so quickly towards him, one fiercely snarling toothed blade swinging down to his head.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He tried to step back, use his flamer to shove him back, but the world was swiped out from under him as he hit the ground. Turned out, getting hit in the head with a chainaxe wasn’t fun. Who knew?</p><p class="western">Blaze’s head had a furious pounding sensation, as if he had a hangover and someone just started screaming in his mind. Like that drill sergeant. That was <em>rough</em>. So worth it when he got that flamer in his hands, the world felt right. Fire was also fun.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blaze would have <em>really</em> appreciated it if his head stopped hurting. He tried to get up, only succeeding in the sensation of his hands twitching. He could hear gunshots, Maximillius cursing, and revving from those damned chainsaw weapons.</p><p class="western">They <em>really</em> needed to get taken down a notch. Preferably with flames. Lots of flames. He felt all foggy and wiggly. Actually, kinda more wiggly. It was a <em>really</em> weird sensation, as if the tingly sensation of his leg falling asleep was in his head instead.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He managed to cough as a heavy weight stepped onto his chest. It certainly felt wet, the cough at least. Was that blood? Mouths weren’t meant to taste as if he just licked a gun barrel.</p><p class="western">That was funny, even if he was the one that lost a bet and had to lick a gun barrel. It tasted like metal, cold metal. Like the taste in his mouth except warm. The feeling on his chest suddenly disappeared with a sharp jab.</p><p class="western">His head was jostled before a sharp slap made him realize his eyes had been closed.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Groaning, Blaze got up with Ander’s help and grabbed his fallen flamer. The corpses of the four crazies were scattered about them. He was adjusting his flamer when a scream echoed down the hall, haunting and guttural. Raising his hand to his earpiece, Blaze spoke to the firstmate.</p><p class="western">“What’s going on?”<br/>“Do you think I fucking know?” he snarled, the link going silent. Shrugging, he offered a lho-stick to Orion.</p><p class="western">“No thanks, I’m good.” Orion waved it away. Shrugging again, Blaze stuck the stick into his mouth and lit it, taking a few short puffs of the smoke.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It didn’t help his head, but it helped his nerves and that’s all he needed. After this was all calmed down he was going to get the medicae to give him <em>lots</em> of drugs to stop this headache. Or convince someone to get him a drink, both were good ideas. Tossing the lighter away, Blaze stared grimmly down the hall as a horde of short humanoid things stammered their way down. Their hunched forms giving way to gargoyle-esque faces and stunted wings that flapped uselessly like some sort of fowl.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Can I see another one of those krak grenades?” Orion asked, watching the gargoyle beasts run towards them. Blaze passed him one.</p><p class="western">“Sure, ask me if you need anymore, I got a couple left.”</p><p class="western">“Thanks.” Orion nodded as he held his arm back, throwing the grenade to the crowd. Blaze tried to count the things, but they moved too much.</p><p class="western">The krak grenade hit its mark, taking down three of the little beasts. Orion followed its explosion with a burst of stubber fire.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It took down a few more of the ugly things. Pelting the ground, Blaze snickered as the psyker cursed viciously. Raising his flamer, Blaze grinned as he unleashed the flames, only to lose his grin as the creatures didn’t really respond to the attack. He fired again, managing to take down a few.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">From above, Anders fired and missed as Orion shot too. Unlike his comrade, the man took down the bulk of the things, followed with the rest of them. Before they could celebrate, at least before Blaze could, their earpieces shrieked at them.</p><p class="western">“Squad Bellator, fucking get out of there!”</p><p class="western">Anders and Maximillius at once got down from the tower, sprinting for the hangar bay proper, Orion close at their heels. After a moment of hesitation, Blaze followed where the muted sound of a bolter firing grew to a loud constant noise.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Before them was a valkyrie, engines hot and ready to go with the door gunner shooting furiously into a fray of grotesque beasts.</p><p class="western">‘<em>Demons.. Not beasts.. Oh Emperor.. Oh mighty Emperor of the Throne they’re horrible</em>.’ Blaze would have shuddered if he wasn’t busy diving into the valkyrie. Looking out with the door gunner, his heart dropped.</p><p class="western">“Why in the Emperor's name aren’t we leaving?!” Anders shouted over the roaring of the engines.</p><p class="western">“Doors closed! And those things are too thick to bust through!” a female voice shouted back.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Where’s the controls, we’ll get them open!” Orion yelled. It dawned on Blaze as he looked to the mass of contorted creatures. He knew where the control room was, having been posted in this section of the Carlith a few times. It’d take <em>way</em> too long for them all to get to the controls.</p><p class="western">“I’m going to open the doors!” he raised his voice, drawing the attention of the squad.</p><p class="western">“But-”<br/>“There’s no time! Them fuckers are gettin’ closer and I know where the controls are!”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He took out a lighter for the three men. Anders, Maximillius, and Orion, he took those names into his mind. Despite knowing them for a short duration, they were truly something else. Two normal men and a psyker, facing hordes of enemies and dead set on killing that rogue space marine. He noticed an odd look from the men as he handed them the lighters but shrugged it off.</p><p class="western">“See y’all on the upside.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blaze charged into the fray, steeling himself against the bullets pelting into the humanoids that snapped and snarled. Getting to the control room was easy enough, and Blaze didn’t bother fiddling with any of the safety controls to properly open the doors, merely slamming the buttons required to get the damn thing to open.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Torching some of the demons back to keep them off, Blaze ended up ditching his flamer when one of the things grabbed it. Charging full speed, he was mere meters away from the valkyrie, he felt elated that he hadn’t died to any of the horrors. He’d regroup with squad Bellator. He’d keep on-</p><p class="western">He was slammed to the ground as something jumped onto his weight, something heavy and oppressive.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Blaze heard some sort of wheezing croak over the din of gunshots and noise before realizing it was <em>him</em> making that noise. He tried to move but as he pulled, more pain filled him. He did get to twist around just enough to glance up at the thing that held him down, and how bullets uselessly plinked off of it.</p><p class="western">Bullets might not work, but two krak grenades could do <em>something</em>. At least make it stumble.</p><p class="western">In any case, he certainly wouldn’t be alive to see what these beasts could do to him.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">With a shaking hand, he held it to his earpiece as his other rolled the two remaining krak grenades for better use.</p><p class="western">“It was good to serve with y’all… Turns out psykers are a lot neater than I thought. Blaze out.”</p><p class="western">He pulled the pins, feelings gone in an instant with the force of two anti-vehicle grenades.</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Always High - 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Brailer was sitting in a chair, waiting for her new squad-mates. She was frustrated as she fiddled and played with her amulet, specifically the shiny tube of lipstick tied to it. Being a medic on the ship was a perfect thing for her. She had access to all the drugs she could want, and drugs to make more that she <em>really</em> wanted. It was.. calm enough for where she was, and most of all there were other people like herself on there.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Born in the great void of space, she was ghostly pale like </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>many </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>others born in the same circumstances. Of course her hair, fluffy in the middle with the sides shaved </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a reddish color. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>H</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>er eyes being blue and violet, didn’t help much </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>in not getting called a mutant occasionally</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. Oh, how she scorned that bright purple eye every time she looked in the mirror, or her big nose that got her called a ghost gretchin </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>or bilgerat</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. She scratched at her sleeved arm, frowning at the Commissars looming ominously along the wall. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She had a <em>really</em> good gig on that ship. Especially in the med-bay. Perhaps the crew didn’t like her too much..</p><p class="western">
  <em>I’m Ail. Ail the ‘insane’, that’s why.</em>
  <span> She scoffed to herself, glancing with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows to the chatting </span>
  <span>men and women that made up the Revsheer 32nd. </span>
  <span>Of course, they were some </span>
  <em>huge</em>
  <span> bastards. All the men and women were a solid six feet tall </span>
  <span>in the least</span>
  <span>. She couldn’t fathom what in the Emperor’s name they fed them on that planet to make them grow that big.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I’m not insane, I’d be shot in the head if I was! Insanity’s heretical.. think so anyways.</em>
  <span> Itching again at her sleeved arms, she looked ahead to the stage.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She should’ve </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>taken a hit earlier if she knew how long she’d be sitting in a dismal place. A small smile emerged on her face as she propped her arms on her knees, sitting her chin on her right hand as her </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>left</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> touched gingerly at the massive trio of scars near her violet eye. It wasn’t one of the spook scars that decorated her arms and thighs, it was a scar from an accident with a bilgerat.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>S</span>
  <span>huddering, Brailer sat up as three men walked in, two familiar and one not. </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Well, they were more-or-less familiar, she was kind of going through withdrawal when she had met them. They clearly had had no break from combat, like many others in the room. Their eyes were tired, except for the bald man with the cape. His proud up-high walk gave her the creeps as his singular cold blue eye swept the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>scene</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with his red cybernetic optic.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>Brailer watched silently as they took their seats around her and she blinked slowly and grinned. At least she had </span>
  <em>someone</em>
  <span> familiar at her side. She still watched as they sat down, the bald man who’s knife wound she patched up had blood covering his back as the bearded one had some on his back but more to his side.</span>
</p><p class="western">Her grin fell away, maybe it wasn’t good she was getting these people. Wait.. wasn’t there a whole missing person too? Some half-metal person?</p><p class="western">
  <em>Oh no.. Oh this is one of </em>
  <span>those</span>
  <em> squads isn’t it?</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The squad of three, four now counting herself, were silent during the chatter. Of course the chatting didn’t stop as a man walked upon the stage and yelled for silence. Jumping slightly, she turned and watched him.</p><p class="western">“With the land-rigs down, we have to defend the hive city.” he stepped a little to the left and pointed to the map behind him “Squad Bellatore, you’re assigned to a building with Squad Callix.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>And that was that. Short and ever so not-sweet as they were sent to their way right then and there to get on a Valkyrie. Brailer didn’t know </span>
  <em>how</em>
  <span> she did it, except for clearly tripping conveniently in a hiding spot, and took a hit off the precious syringes she carried with her. It wasn’t the safest thing ev</span>
  <span>er, but when was anything? Life, especially the moments of combat she unwittingly found herself a part of, tended to be more enjoyable when you couldn’t feel what was happening and everything was lots of pretty colors.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>N</span>
  <span>ow she was sitting in a Valkyrie, staring off into space, she felt herself dozing. Part of her, the reasonable part that liked to weasel its annoying voice up, knew it was a </span>
  <em>very</em>
  <span> bad idea to sleep </span>
  <span>high </span>
  <em>and </em>
  <span>on a mission</span>
  <span>, but another just.. didn’t care. Naps were just fine with her, and the rest of her new squad members looked to have the same opinion, </span>
  <span>steadily dozing</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She was </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>laying on the floor</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, holding her lasgun. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Standing up</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, she looked around. First spotting the bald man with the cape and cybernetic eye, Max something.. Maximilly? Maximillius! Then another man, just perhaps an inch shorter with brown eyes and a complete arsenal of weapons.. Orion! And finally, the third bearded man, Andy.. Anders.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">It always helped to know squad names, after all!</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>The room was drab, a</span>
  <span>s though it were some sort of lobby. On two walls were chalk outlines of guns that held a faint sort of glow, either that or it was the steady effects of the spook kicking in. Hopefully it was, hopefully this was all just some weird dream effected by her trip.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Hello there! You all are going to play a game! Your goal is to get to the last room and wake up! Of course, the undead are going to try and stop you! And the more you kill, the more that show up!” </span><span>the voice of a little girl echoed around them, bright, cheerful and full of giggles.</span></p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Brailer felt her gut drop as she stumbled a little to her right. The world swam for a moment before straightening out.</p><p class="western">
  <em>This isn’t a dream? Is it? Oh..oh </em>
  <span>fuck</span>
  <em> it’s not a dream?!</em>
  <span> She had learned long ago that instincts where the way to go, even if it got her into trouble. Instincts were first and foremost the one thing she listened to every time.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>Like the instinct to not disobey a Commissar. </span>
  <em>That</em>
  <span> one was an important one. And the other instinct that let her scramble away from whatever horrors hid in the sub-decks. She touched the scars on her face before scratching at the fabric of her sleeve. The spot where she had injected herself felt itchy, as if something tiny and irritating were biting it.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Well, I vote we go right.” Maximillius spoke, already heading to the door on the right side of the room. Brailer scoffed to herself as Orion nodded and followed after, agreeing verbally with him.</p><p class="western">“Why not left? There could be something.. I dunno.. interesting?” she shrugged meekly. She felt uneasy, dreams never felt awake. Especially trippy dreams. Trippy dreams always felt out of control and were horrible, she didn’t need the corpse face of Abe screaming at her again. Then again she had that Abe dream a lot..</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She missed Abe.</p><p class="western">With a huff, Brailer shook her head as she stomped after squad Bellatore as they went through the right door. She didn’t need to think about Abe. Abe was dead and corpses couldn’t do anything to help her. As soon as she followed after them into the room, a foreboding musical tune echoed around them.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maximillius had moved into a corner, as did Orion. While Anders milled in the center. Cracking alerted them all to the boarded up windows that lead to ominous black halls. With a crackling grown, a grotesque hand jutted between two boards, followed by another as it scrabbled and tore board after board off. Another pair of hands followed as Brailer looked around, spotting another entry point and a door with floating numbers in front of it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>Yet all Brailer was focused on soon after was Maximillius shooting a </span>
  <em>laser</em>
  <span> from his cybernetic eye. She couldn’t figure out if it was some sort of psyker thing of a cybernetic thing. If it was a cybernetic thing.. </span>
  <em>oh </em>
  <span>how she’d be terrorizing the tech-priests about it. </span>
  <span>Everyone was a blaze of movement, Orion’s stubber shredding the rotting flesh of the beastly </span>
  <span>half rotted humans</span>
  <span>, that while they did reek, they did not have the specific sort or rotting stink, while Anders moved himself to a better position.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>She stumbled into a corner, holding her lasgun as she lurched when the world swam for a moment. The world didn’t feel right. It felt wrong, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. </span>
  <span>Or was she the itch she couldn’t scratch? Using the side of her boot, she itched at her leg, leaning against the wall.</span>
</p><p class="western">On the other side she watched as the psyker flung his arm out dramatically. A true pict-image of a powerful figure..</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>Then she erupted into a fit of giggles as nothing happened, covering her mouth with a wheeze. </span>
  <span>Her wheeze turned to a choked off stutter as she shook for a moment. A different sort of creeping feeling emerged as Max’s face twisted with frustration. She had no words to it, other than maybe a dog would’ve hid in a corner with her.</span>
</p><p class="western">“What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled to the psyker, realizing seconds later that her voice had a slur to it.</p><p class="western">“I’m not focusing!” he’d snarl, glaring at the nearest walking corpse and flinging his hand at it as if he threw some invisible object. Once more, nothing happened and she snickered.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>I</span>
  <span>t was a funny feeling, she thought as she watched the equipment heavy figure of Orion hack his way through a corpse walker with his chainaxe before raising his stubber to pulverize the next. Being in wherever she was made her high feel weirder, as if she was warp traveling. She shuddered, suddenly her amulet felt very heavy. Warp trips were the </span>
  <em>worse</em>
  <span>, but unavoidable if you were in there for long times.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>Anders was next to step up, shooting and killing with devastating precision. Shambling forward, she took post in a better spot. As more of the creatures shambled in, she was greeted to a funny noise, a hollow </span>
  <em>thunk!</em>
  <span> Looking over, Brailer caught the final seconds of one of the things taking a board to the head. It seemed a cycle was passing as Orion shot, missed once, and shredded another beastly thing, stumblers as she was starting to call them, with Anders and his nearly horrifying precision eliminating the ones he missed.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>Brailer herself? She tried, she really did, but she just couldn’t cut it. Raising her lasgun, the world still swaying. Each shot, she </span>
  <em>missed</em>
  <span>. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth. So </span>
  <em>everyone</em>
  <span> was going to be a badass, Maximillius exempted with his certainly hilarious failures, </span>
  <span>something about seeing a brawny man flinging his arm out for nothing to happen was tickling her. </span>
  <span>Raising her lasgun, she pressed the trigger and grinned as one of the stumblers fell to the ground. </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>With a victorious giggle, Brailer ended up doing a double-take as there was a heavy thunking. Turning around, she yelped as a massive creature emerged. It’s bulbous, fat hands were club like and it walked with an ape-like gait. She stared at it, taking a step back. </span>
  <span>The world narrowed down in focus as the others killed the stumblers near them. Keeping her lasgun raised, she fired, missing </span>
  <em>again</em>
  <span> while the next shot finally killed one. Finally!</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Her second kill would have been more satisfying if it wasn’t for the horrifying bellow from the club-arm.</p><p class="western">“<span>What the fuck is up with its hands?!” </span><span>as if it took personal insult, the club-armed thing charged at Orion and slammed its fists down. Its rage just narrowly missed him. Just seconds later, there was a resounding snap within it. In annoyance, it made a sort of grunting sound.</span></p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Brailer took the time to double over in laughter as Maximillius flailed his arm out in an attempt to magically throw something. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Backing up, Orion flailed his chainaxe at the thing, somehow missing at point blank range. Anders didn’t have his back against them, but used his astonishing aim to kill another stumbler. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Ail could have sworn she was aiming right but </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>still</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> missed the hulking shape. Raising it’s massive hand, the club-arm smacked Orion, forcing him against the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ground</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>With her post in the corner.. sort of, she was more in the center of the wall than anything, Brailer was able to watch as Maximillius fruitlessly threw his arm about mov</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>e, Orion flailing his axe with reckless abandon. Raising it’s arm again, it reared and punched the shorter man. Stumbling wildly, Orion wheezed with a sizable dent in his armor piece. Beside her, Brailer heard only a hissing wheeze for a warning. Turning, she </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>leaned back as a stumbler flailed its clawed hands at her.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">“Ew! Ew, go away!”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>S</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he turned her sights back to the club-arm when the others began shooting and, in Orion’s case, trying his luck to cut into it. Of course, Ander’s aim was clean as ever, killing the stumbler beside her. Missing the first time she fired at the hulking beast, Brailer grinned as she hit it the second time. A grin that quickly fell as it made no impact whatsoever. Turning its sights towards Maximillius, it charged towards him, raising one meaty fist and slamming it against the wall with a solid thud.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Maximillius’s face wasn’t scared, but filled with a furious determination as he tore out a sword from its scabbard. Brailer shuddered at the sight of him hacking deep into the club-arm. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Another hit and the thing finally collapsed. She took the moment to sigh in relief. Swaying in place as Orion missed his shots and Anders killing one of the other stumblers. Raising her gun, she gritted her teeth at the stumbler that made its way close to her. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She fired.. and missed. Oh she </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>really</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> shouldn’t had taken that hit of spook in such a weird place. Had she always been in here? The thing raised one of its limp hands and smacked her. Spitting furiously, Ail shot it, trying to shoo it away but got smacked again.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>Ow! Ew! Ew </span></span></span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>and</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> ow! </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Back off!</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>” </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>she yelped, raising her fist and hitting the disgusting, rotting thing. Luckily for her, the thing was killed by the.. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>her</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> squad-mates. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">Looking around, she realized they were surrounded by corpses that were fading away. Brailer gagged as the world swam and shook her head.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>Great!” the invisible girl’s voice giggled “You’re done with the tutorial! This is gonna be </span></span></span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>fun</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>!” </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“What’s that mean? Psyker, what in the warp does that mean?!” Orion was adjusting the hold on his stubber, staring at Maximillius as he ground at the ceiling.</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Instead of answering him, they heard a distant gurgling. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Like someone gargling water. Down one of the halls and through one of the previously boarded offshoots, emerged two pale.. humanoids. Their stomachs horribly distended. They were short and horrendously thin aside from their torsos. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Garglers?” Brailer realized she coined the term out loud. Flinging his arm out, Maximillius repeated the motion again, sending a board flying right into the gargler’s dead. In emergence with them came a massive wave of stumblers. Lasfire and stubber fire ringing out in a cacophony of noise...but none of them hit their targets by some divine unluckiness.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Just as soon, their luck turned. Each of them eliminating one or two of the stinking corpse-walkers. Even though she was higher than a frigate! Even Brailer herself killed one! She was still a good shot! Even if she totally didn’t skip out on target practice a couple times..a few times. Maybe more than necessary. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She was having a good time getting high! She was having a good time with Abe!</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>Was</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. She reminded herself, finding her hands were shaking. Was. It’d always be was now. There would never be another man that would like her that way, he was right about that.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She heard a familiar noise. At least, as a medicae it was familiar. A low ‘hrk’ noise coupled with a gag. Turning to the source, her heart dropped at the sight of the gargler spewing something disgustingly yellow-green at her. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Luckily for her, she kept her mouth and eyes closed and it only, by a miracle, landed on her flak chest-piece. Unluckily for her, she shrieked and slapped wildly at her chest as the vomit turned out to be acidic. Once more luckily, it only ate perhaps an inch into her armor.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">In the corner of her eye as she batted away at her armor, was the sight of a board implanting itself into the gargler’s head.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"><span><span><span>This time she couldn’t even take a single pause of respite as a horde of stumblers shambled their way up the hall, with a new appearance of</span></span></span><em><span><span> another</span></span></em><span><span><span> variant. </span></span></span> <span><span><span>Staring, she hesitated. Palies? Swords? </span></span></span><span><span><span>Sword-hands</span></span></span><span><span><span>? Sword-</span></span></span><span><span><span>hand</span></span></span><span><span><span>s sounded cool. Swords </span></span></span><em><span><span>were</span></span></em><span><span><span> cool. </span></span></span><span><span><span>Hands were neat too</span></span></span><span><span><span>. In the case of the psyker’s sword, </span></span></span><em><span><span>really</span></span></em><span><span><span> cool. Perhaps she could get a sword.. would medicaes get swords </span></span></span><span><span><span>or sword-hands</span></span></span><span><span><span>? She should ask someone, maybe not Maximillius. He seemed to use his power all willy-nilly and it freaked her out.</span></span></span></p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Hardly aiming his stubber, Orion unleashed a fury of stubber-fire and the stumblers dropped like flies. Anders was already shooting with his only slightly missing, but deadly still lethal, lasgun. Brailer herself was frantically shooting at the sword-arm. Raising it’s arm, it lashed down in a blur.</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Once more, Brailer was reminded to be thankful of the standard-issue armor she was given. At least, she </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>would</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> have been reminded if she wasn’t shrieking and holding her lasgun out as if it’d protect her from the next hit.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The sword-arm collapsed from a las-shot. Looking over, Brailer felt her face wet with tears as she gave a thumbs up. She wasn’t upset! Just a little freaked out and really wanting a hug. Or to curl up. Or a nap, she was really tired. Wasn’t she napping? She could have sworn her eyes closed..</p><p class="western">Wait she was still dreaming. Right? Everything felt too real. The pain was too real. Yet four strangers didn’t dream together, right? At least, three people and a stranger.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Moving quickly with a mute determination, she and the squad watched as Maximillius went for the door. His hand reached for the doorknobs and she caught a faint glimpse of floating numbers, two pairs of numbers in fact. Then, as soon as he touched it, they opened of their own accord. It wouldn’t have creeped her out so much if it wasn’t for the fact the doors were clearly not on a ship and were just normal wood. Or at least, she thought it was wood. Hoped it was.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Brailer stayed where she was when she heard the familiar shuffling thud of a club-arm. No, two club-arms. From where she was leaning, she saw a heavy duty looking sentry gun. Lashing out, Maximillius wounded a stumbler with his sword as Orion jogged up to the gun. Once again, he hardly touched it when the turret raised its barrel with mechanical precision.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She scratched lightly at the flak armor. Where she was cut at and puked upon felt itchy. She felt itchy. Like bugs in her skin. Were there bugs in her skin? Shuffling on her feet, Brailer let out a low whine. Oh, she was in a bad situation, she couldn’t do anything about the bugs with the others there. They’d report her for sure.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Scooting back, she fumbled with the medic-kit using shaking hands and gritted her teeth as that weird simply-touching-it-makes-it-work happened again. Finding herself spiraling down in a pit of thoughts when the roar of much louder gunfire in a confined space exploded from the sentry gun. Each of the stumblers, some of which doing a much faster shuffle, exploding in a rain of gore and blood.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>O</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ne of the club-arms had emerged and Orion missed it. At least, if his furious cussing was any indication, it was hard to tell what was going on over in the other room. Especially when being distracted by </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Anders mindlessly shooting into the horde, herself missing twice and getting punched by a stumbler.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">Her face stung. Somewhere in the other room, she heard Orion cussing again and soon the turret’s dauntingly loud firing.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Suddenly, everything snapped into focus. As if it slowed down, her nerves were on fire in the best way. Looking up at the stumbler that was </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>way</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> too close for comfort, Brailer felt something inside of her bunch up, like a taut rubber band. Just as soon as she had felt it, it was unleashed. The stumbler made a hiccuping sort of noise as it fell upon its bottom, before promptly meeting its end as she shot it clean through the head.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Just as soon as she was focused, she lost it. For seconds, she saw Anders letting go of his lasgun long enough to grab his head and scream. There was too much screaming.</p><p class="western">She was screaming.</p><p class="western">The world was flashing, twisting. All she saw was the floor as Brailer clawed at the nearest thing, something, anything! Her insides were vile snakes. No, there were no insides, just snakes chewing and clawing. A cacophony of noise hammered in her mind. Waves and waves, an ocean.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She bit her tongue, she must have. She tasted blood and felt sick. One voice echoed, quiet in the sea before emerging louder and louder. There was no language, but it was smooth. Smoother than a drag from the best lho-stick or obscura. She didn’t know what it said, but heard its promises. Wondrous promises. Better drugs than spook would ever be, or even stronger spook. Ecstasy and feelings that no human would ever hope to feel without its help. A promise that made Brailer drool and want whatever in the Emperor’s name it wanted.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Or not, that suddenly stung and for a moment she was drifting in a void of fire. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Was it really a moment? Or an eternity? What was time suddenly? Was this all imagination caused by the spook? </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Vaguely she was aware of something wet on her arm. She must have clawed herself something silly through her shirt somehow. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Blood. Red and sticky, sticky and red. Flowing slow but quick. Yet not quick. Viscous and vicious. The determination of life or death with how much it stayed inside.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">There was another promise. A promise to stop the pain, the suffering in the moment. It hurt, hurt so bad. Craning her head back, she saw nothing but a rainbow of color, what could have been eyes. A flash of gold, something face-like. Aid and help.</p><p class="western">
  <em>Help me</em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She blinked, staring at carpet discolored with tears, saliva, and blood from her bleeding tongue. Swallowing thick </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>saliva</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, she grabbed her lasgun and lurched upwards as the turret </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>missed</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. Anders looked dazed as if in disbelief. She didn’t get much of a glance but Orion looked </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>pissed</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. Brailer didn’t see him, but she swore she heard a smug sort of chuckle from the other room. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">Shuddering, she hiccuped at the odd.. murmuring feeling in her mind. There was no other way to describe it, as if something was speaking to her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Something </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>was</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> speaking to her. She couldn’t focus on Orion shredding stumblers, Anders dispatching them. Only on the horribly wonderful muttering in her head. Brailer felt that wave again, rippling off of her </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>as if it were adrenaline manifest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>. Feeling as if her nerves bunched up and released all of a sudden, once again she missed her shot.</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A gargler and a sword-arm showed up, but she wasn’t focused. Something about the mix of drugs and.. and whatever that was seemed to be too much. Her knee buckled under her and how she remained standing, she didn’t know. Luckily, it missed its swing just over her head. She was just raising her lasgun when the stumbler went down, once again from Anders.</p><p class="western">He looked coldly focused, it was unsettling to behold. As if something in him just clicked. A word came to her mind, beasts. Beasts.. monsters and men. Men and monsters, oh no. She couldn’t she just couldn’t.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Brailer felt like crying and laughing, but held it in with a silent hiccup. She shot at the sword-arm, hit it once and did nothing, before missing. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>They were upon her now, the sword arm and a stumbler. Making their horrible wheezing noises when they suddenly froze mid-step. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She nearly fell to the ground as they did, looking with horror at Anders and the others. Swearing that for a moment they were stumblers as well.</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>It took too long for Brailer to realize she was hyperventilating. In fact, she was only reminded she was panting heavily when a</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>n</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> intruding feeling wiggled into her gut. It made her feel </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>nauseous </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and sick. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The wall wasn’t moving, yet all the same it was. The picture that was on one wall was suddenly on another or duplicated or no longer there. How she didn’t empty her stomach, she didn’t know. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Maybe it was the years of taking spook catching up.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>M</span>
    </span>
    <span>
      <span>aybe you should take a little more</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She looked away from the wall. Maybe it would help to take another dose of spook, but with how sick she felt, she didn’t want to break a needle being clumsy. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>That would be bad, spook was expensive enough as it is. Making it was a total pain, and her private supply was more than likely stuck to the remaining syringes she had in her kit.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A flash of light distracted her. From the doorway they entered from was a large crack in the ground. A putrid smell wafted through, warm and humid with a disgustingly yellow-green color emitting from the rift.</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>Hey, uh, psyker, what’s going on?” looking over, Brailer saw Orion pointing at the rift with his stubber as he spoke. </span></span></span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Maximillius shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was just normal.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">“Warp hole.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>Oh please don’t be normal. </span>
    </span>
    <span>
      <span>Don’t let random warp holes be normal</span>
    </span>
    <span>
      <span>. Please, please, please, please-</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="western"><span><span><span>For a moment, Brailer thought something was odd with her thoughts, </span></span></span><span><span><span>as if there was an echo,</span></span></span> <span><span><span>but</span></span></span><span><span><span> had no time to dwell on that fact as a large, flabby hand stuck out of the tear of reality and grabbed onto the floor. Another hand emerged with a large, rusted hunk of metal that had no right to be called a sword. Following it was a round head adorned with a small little horn on top and a </span></span></span><span><span><span>bulbous</span></span></span><span><span><span> wet eye. </span></span></span></p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Pulling itself up using arms swathed in fat, it exposed a body, corpulent and bloated. Its stomach so distended and overweight that its over-spilling intestines acted as a gruesome loincloth. Gagging, Brailer choked back her own vomit at the horrendous stench she could only compare to some rotted meat she found once. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She was frozen in place, shaking.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>What the fuck? What in the </span></span></span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>fuck</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>?!” she shrieked, raising her shaking lasgun. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">“They’re plaguebearers, you damn junkie!” Maximillius raised his voice, yelling at her.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Brailer couldn’t focus on that. Not even on the fact that another plaguebearer that emerged was vomiting at her new squad-mates. She was too busy being dwarfed by the first one that had rushed in front of her. Its fat rolls and heavy feat creating the most disgusting series of noise. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>A mix of its skin slapping together and what she could only describe as a squelching sound from its organs. In the distance there was muted groans and howls from the stumblers.. wherever they were.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">In her panic, Brailer looked to the team for help, only watching helplessly as Maximillius casually trotted from where he was to between Anders and Orion. Flinging out his arm, the second plaguebearer roared angrily as it stumbled back and was shot by Orion. Anders gave a begrudging sigh, and she swore she heard him mutter ‘fuck this’ over all the noise before taking his second launcher.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>In that moment, she found herself screaming her earlier obscenities and backing away. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Shooting twice, Brailer might as well had thrown toothpicks at it. The air dropped in temperature and frost appeared on her lasgun. It hurt her hands with how suddenly cold it got. It stung her arms. It hurt and it was burning despite not being </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>that</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> cold. Maybe, she was shaking worse now.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“What the warp, Orion! I was just standing there!” Anders voice hollered over the distant groaning and the heavy breathing of the daemon in front of her.</p><p class="western">The plaguebearer in front of her took a wobbly step and didn’t even grunt as las-fire pelted its thick skin. Brailer’s nerves left her as she dove to the left,</p><p class="western">“You asshole bloater!” she wailed.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>From the opposite doorway </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>of the rift</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, Maximillius threw his arm out uselessly, Orion threw a grenade into the portal for whatever it no doubt uselessly did. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">“The portal’s getting bigger!” Anders was belting, shooting and missing the massive form of the Plaguebearer.</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Fix it!”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">“There’s nothing I can do! Shut up!”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Brailer looked up at the plaguebearer, staring it fearfully in its eye before running again.</p><p class="western">“Get in here! Get in the room!” Orion snarled, reaching and missing as she slid into the corner. To her horror, the plaguebearer moved with astonishing speed right towards her.</p><p class="western">“You bastard! You fat bastard!” she screeched. She felt that electrifying sensation earlier, but instead of it waving out, it fizzled.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She was cornered, she could only see the obese form of the plaguebearer. Brailer had hopelessly cornered herself. From elsewhere, there was an unhappy gurgling.</p><p class="western">“Get in here, Brailer!” Orion called once again. Pressing her back into the corner, Brailer felt herself crying again.</p><p class="western">“I-I can’t!” she was sobbing, holding up her lasgun as if it’d protect her from the leering beast. Just as soon as it raised its sword to now doubt end her, its head was torn apart by bullets.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Brailer barely got to watch it collapsed when the world faded to black, only for her to realize she was standing in a pure white space. So pure it hurt her eyes to look. On either side of her was the squad, in front of her was a little girl, smiling benignly as if she just did something to be proud of.</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>Thank you for helping with that incursion! Although you </span></span></span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>did</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> cause it,” she shrugged casually “In my gratitude for that, I’ll grant each of you </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>one</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> wish!” her smile turned to a teeth bearing grin.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">Something about it was sinister.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“What do you want?” Maximillius was the first to speak.</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>Nothing! No strings attached!” her giggling voice was raised in a sing-song </span></span></span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>tone and her grin grew wider. Pausing, Maximillius narrowed his eyes and jabbed a finger at her.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<span><span>You’re full of shit but I don’t know </span></span></span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>how</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>.” he hissed.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">Brailer crossed her arms. There was something wrong there, Maximillius was right.</p><p class="western">“How exact we need to be?” Orion stepped up. It was comical how tall he was compared to the unsettling.. not-child.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Just wish!” she laughed, swinging her arms. Shockingly, Anders was the first to raise his hand.</p><p class="western">“An Astaes pattern grenade launcher.” it was weirdly specific, all the little girl did was nod, smile somehow a little more, and look to the rest of them.</p><p class="western">“Ah...Something I can get my drugs out wherever I want, however many I want?” Brailer winced for being so obvious about it.</p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>It always was. Commissar never had enough proof to kill you for it</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">Again with that odd thought.. voice..</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“What’s.. the extent of your wishes?”</p><p class="western">“There’s no limit!” the little girl cackled at Orion’s determination to weasel answers out of her.</p><p class="western">“True, but what are your limits?”</p><p class="western">“One, but none of your wishes will reach that far!” she hummed.</p><p class="western">“..I want to be physically like a space marine.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Brailer looked at Orion in confusion. Like a space marine?! One of those? They were huge! Massive! How would.. she shoved it aside when the psyker spoke.</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>I want to be as psychically powerful as the Emperor with no drawbacks.” </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Snorting, she covered her </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>mouth</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with one of her pale hands. Really? She was more laughing from dread than anything.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">“Hmm.. Technically out of my range, but I can tweak it!” her voice was a giddy chirp.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>THUNK!</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Brailer flinched as her head hit the wall. Blinking tiredly, one hand frantically grabbed at her flak armor. Looking down, she stared owlishly at the lack of damage. She took in the sight of the Valkyrie, the men and women around her. One man looked familiar enough, blinking in an exhausted way. It dawned upon her then that it was Orion. A much </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>buffer</span>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Orion. Maximillius and Anders looked just about the same.. except for the shiny new handle of a grenade launcher.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
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